UesUfn  by  Aubrey  Beardsley 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/elmtreeonmallOOfraniala 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON 
THE  MALL 


me  T>EFiNiTive  cditiov^ 

The  ELM -TREE  ON 
THE  MALL 

Sy  ^NATOLe  F%ANCe 


DODD-MEAD  ^  COMPANY 


PUBUSHXD    IN   U.    S.    A.,    1922 

bt  dodd.  mead  and  company,  Ino. 


FBIKTBD   IN   IT.   S.   A. 


THE  VAIL-MLLOU    PRESS 
•IIMNAHTON    AND    M(W    YORK 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 


THE   ELM -TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

HE  salon  which  the  Cardinal-Arch- 
bishop used  as  a  reception  room  had 
been  fitted,  in  the  time  of  Louis  XV., 
with  panellings  of  carved  wood 
painted  a  light  grey.  Seated  figures 
of  women  surrounded  by  trophies  filled  the  angles 
of  the  cornices.  The  mirror  on  the  chimney-piece 
being  in  two  divisions,  was  covered,  as  to  its  lower 
half,  with  a  drapery  of  crimson  velvet,  which  threw 
into  relief  a  pure  white  statue  of  Our  Lady  of 
Lourdes  with  her  pretty  blue  scarf.  Along  the 
walls,  in  the  middle  of  the  panels,  hung  enamel 
plates  framed  in  reddish  plush,  portraits  of  Popes 
Pius  IX.  and  Leo  XIIL  printed  in  colours,  and 
pieces  of  embroidery,  either  souvenirs  of  Rome  or 
gifts  from  the  pious  ladies  of  the  diocese.  The 
gilded  side-tables  were  loaded  with  plaster  models 
of  Gothic  or  Romanesque  churches:  the  Cardinal- 
Archbishop  was  fond  of  buildings.  From  the 
plaster  rose  hung  a  Merovingian  chandelier 
executed  from  the  designs  of  M.  Quatrebarbe, 
diocesan  architect  and  Knight  of  the  Order  of 
Saint  Gregory. 

Tucking  his  cassock  up  above  his  violet  stockings 


2        THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

and  warming  his  short,  stout  legs  at  the  fire,  Mon- 
scigneur  was  dictating  a  pastoral  letter,  whilst, 
seated  on  a  large  table  of  brass  and  tortoiseshell,  on 
which  stood  an  ivory  crucifix,  the  vicar-general,  M. 
de  Goulet,  was  writing:  So  that  nothing  may  occur 
to  sadden  for  us  the  joys  of  our  retreat.  .  .  . 

Monseigneur  dictated  in  a  dry,  colourless  voice. 
He  was  a  very  short  man,  but  the  great  head  with 
its  square  face  softened  by  age  was  carried  erect. 
Notwithstanding  its  coarse  and  homely  lineaments, 
his  face  was  expressive  of  subtlety  and  a  kind  of 
dignity  born  of  habit  and  the  love  of  command. 

"The  joys  of  our  retreat.  .  .  .  Here  you  will 
expound  the  ideas  of  harmony,  of  the  subduing  of 
the  mind,  of  that  submission  to  the  powers  that  be 
which  is  so  necessary,  and  which  I  have  already 
dealt  with  in  my  previous  pastoral  letters." 

M.  de  Goulet  raised  his  long,  pale,  refined  head 
adorned  by  beautiful  curled  locks  as  though  by  a 
Louis  Quatorze  wig. 

"But  this  time,"  said  he,  "would  it  not  be 
expedient,  while  repeating  these  declarations,  to 
show  that  reserve  appropriate  to  the  position  of 
the  secular  powers,  shaken  as  they  are  by  internal 
convulsions  and  henceforth  incapable  of  imparting 
to  their  covenants  what  they  themselves  do  not 
possess — I  mean  continuity  and  stability?  For  you 
must  see,  Monseigneur,  that  the  decline  of  parlia- 
mentary predominance  ,  ,  .'* 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL        3 

The  Cardinal-Archbishop  shook  his  head. 

"Without  reservations,  Monsieur  de  Goulet, 
without  any  species  of  reservation.  You  are  full 
of  learning  and  piety,  Monsieur  de  Goulet,  but 
your  old  pastor  can  still  give  you  a  few  lessons  in 
discretion,  before  handing  over  the  government  of 
the  diocese,  at  his  death,  to  your  youthful  energy. 
Have  we  not  to  congratulate  ourselves  upon  the 
attitude  of  M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin,  who 
regards  our  schools  and  our  labours  with  favour? 
And  are  we  not  welcoming  to  our  table  to-morrow 
the  general  in  command  of  the  division  and  the 
president-in-chief?  And,  a  propos  of  that,  let  me 
see  the  menu." 

The  Cardinal-Archbishop  inspected  it,  made  al- 
terations and  additions,  and  gave  special  directions 
that  the  game  should  be  ordered  from  Rivoire,  the 
poacher  to  the  prefecture. 

A  servant  entered  and  presented  him  with  a  card 
on  a  silver  tray. 

Having  read  the  name  of  Abbe  Lantaigne,  head 
of  the  high  seminary,  on  the  card,  Monseigneur 
turned  towards  his  vicar-general. 

"I'll  wager,"  said  he,  "that  M.  Lantaigne  is 
coming  to  complain  to  me  again  about  M.  Guitrel." 

Abbe  de  Goulet  rose  to  leave  the  salon.  But 
Monseigneur  stopped  him. 

"Stay!  I  want  you  to  share  with  me  the 
pleasure  of  listening  to  M.  Lantaigne,  who,  as  you 


4        THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

know,  Is  spoken  of  as  the  finest  preacher  in  the 
diocese.  For,  if  one  listened  only  to  public 
opinion,  it  would  seem  that  he  preaches  better  than 
you,  dear  Monsieur  de  Goulet.  But  that  is  not  my 
opinion.  Between  ourselves,  I  care  neither  for  his 
inflated  style  nor  for  his  involved  scholarship.  He 
is  terribly  wearisome,  and  I  am  keeping  you  here  to 
help  me  to  get  rid  of  him  as  quickly  as  possible." 

A  priest  entered  the  salon  and  bowed.  He  was 
very  tall  and  immensely  corpulent,  with  a  serious, 
simple,  abstracted   face. 

At  sight  of  him  Monseigneur  exclaimed  gaily: 

"Ah!  good-day.  Monsieur  I'abbe  Lantaigne. 
At  the  very  moment  that  you  sent  in  your  name  the 
vicar-general  and  I  were  talking  about  you.  Wc 
were  saying  that  you  are  the  most  distinguished 
orator  in  the  diocese,  and  that  the  Lenten  course 
you  preached  at  Saint-Exupere  is  proof  positive  of 
your  great  talents  and  profound  scholarship." 

Abbe  Lantaigne  reddened.  He  was  sensitive  to 
praise,  and  it  was  by  the  door  of  pride  alone  that 
the  Enemy  could  find  entrance  to  his  soul. 

"Monseigneur,"  he  answered,  his  face  lit  up  by 
a  smile  which  quickly  died  away,  "the  approval  of 
Your  Eminence  gives  me  a  deep  delight  which 
comes  felicitously  to  soothe  the  opening  of  an  inter- 
view which  is  a  painful  one  to  me.  For  it  is  a  com- 
plaint which  the  head  of  the  high  seminary  has  the 
misfortune  to  pour  into  your  paternal  ears." 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL        5 

Monseigneur  interrupted  him : 

"Tell  me,  Monsieur  Lantaigne,  has  that  Lenten 
course  at  Saint-Exupere  been  printed?" 

"A  synopsis  of  it  appeared  in  the  diocesan 
Semaine  religieuse.  I  am  moved,  Monseigneur, 
by  the  marks  of  interest  which  you  deign  to  show 
in  my  apostolic  labours.  Alas  I  it  is  long  enough 
ago  since  I  first  entered  the  pulpit.  In  1880,  when 
I  had  too  many  sermons,  I  gave  them  to  M. 
Roquette,  who  has  since  been  raised  to  a  bishopric." 

"Ahl"  cried  Monseigneur,  with  a  smile,  "that 
good  M.  Roquette  I  When  I  went  last  year  ad 
limina  apostolorum  I  met  M.  Roquette  for  the  first 
time  just  as  he  was  gaily  setting  out  for  the  Vatican. 
A  week  later  I  met  him  in  Saint-Peter's,  where  he 
was  imbibing  the  solace  that  he  much  needed  after 
being  refused  the  cardinal's  hat." 

"And  why,"  demanded  M.  Lantaigne,  in  a  voice 
that  whistled  like  a  whip-lash,  "why  should  the 
purple  have  descended  on  the  shoulders  of  this  poor 
creature,  a  mediocrity  in  character,  a  nonentity  in 
doctrine,  whose  mental  density  has  made  him 
ridiculous,  and  whose  sole  recommendation  is  that 
he  has  sat  at  table  with  the  President  of  the  Repub- 
lic at  a  masonic  banquet?  Could  M.  Roquette  only 
rise  above  himself,  he  would  be  astonished  at  find- 
ing himself  a  bishop.  In  these  times  of  trial,  when 
a  future  confronts  us  pregnant  with  awful  menace 
as  well  as  with  gracious  promise,  it  would  be  ex- 


6        THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

pedient  to  build  up  a  body  of  clergy  powerful  both 
in  character  and  in  scholarship.  And  in  fact,  Mon- 
seigneur,  I  come  to  interview  Your  Eminence 
about  another  Roquette,  about  another  priest  who 
is  unfitted  to  sustain  the  weight  of  his  great  duties. 
The  professor  of  rhetoric  at  the  high  seminary,  M. 
I'abbe  Guitrel  .  .  ." 

Monseigneur  interrupted  with  a  feigned  jest,  and 
asked,  with  a  laugh,  whether  Abbe  Guitrel  were  in 
a  fair  way  to  become  a  bishop  in  his  turn. 

"What  an  idea,  Monseigneur  I"  cried  Abbe  Lan- 
taigne.  "If  perchance  this  man  were  raised  to  a 
bishopric,  we  should  behold  once  more  the  days  of 
Cautinus,  when  an  unworthy  pontiff  defiled  the  see 
of  Saint  Martin." 

The  Cardinal-Archbishop,  curled  up  in  his  arm- 
chair, remarked  genially: 

"Cautinus,  Bishop  Cautinus"  (it  was  the  first 
time  he  had  heard  the  name),  "Cautinus  who  was 
a  successor  of  Saint  Martin.  Are  you  quite  sure 
that  this  Cautinus  behaved  as  badly  as  they  make 
out?  It  is  an  interesting  point  in  the  history  of  the 
Gallic  Church  concerning  which  I  should  much  like 
to  have  the  opinion  of  so  learned  a  man  as  yourself, 
Monsieur  Lantaigne." 

The  head  of  the  high  seminary  drew  himself  up. 

"The  testimony,  Monseigneur,  of  Gregory  of 
Tours  is  explicit  in  the  passage  touching  Bishop 
Cautinus.     This  successor  of  the  blessed  Martin 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL        7 

lived  in  such  luxury  and  robbed  the  Church  of  its 
treasures  to  such  an  extent  that,  at  the  end  of  two 
years  of  his  administration,  all  the  sacred  vessels 
were  in  the  hands  of  the  Jews  at  Tours.  And  if  I 
have  coupled  the  name  of  Cautinus  with  that  of 
this  unhappy  M.  Guitrel,  it  is  not  without  reason. 
M.  Guitrel  carries  off  the  artistic  curios,  wood- 
carvings,  or  finely  chased  vessels,  which  are  still  to 
be  found  in  country  churches,  in  the  care  of  ig- 
norant churchwardens,  and  it  is  for  the  benefit  of 
the  Jews  that  he  devotes  himself  to  this  robbery." 

"For  the  benefit  of  the  Jews?"  demanded 
Monseigneur.  "What  is  this  that  you  are  telling 
me?" 

"For  the  benefit  of  the  Jews,"  returned  Abbe 
Lantaigne,  "and  to  embellish  the  drawing-rooms  of 
M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin,  Jew  and  freemason. 
Madame  Worms-Clavelin  is  fond  of  antiquities. 
Through  the  medium  of  M.  Guitrel  she  has  gained 
possession  of  the  copes  treasured  for  three  hundred 
years  in  the  vestry  of  the  church  at  Lusancy,  and 
she  has,  I  am  told,  turned  them  into  seats  of  the 
kind  called  poufs." 

Monseigneur  shook  his  head. 

"Poufsf  But  if  the  transfer  of  these  disused 
vestments  has  been  conducted  legally,  I  do  not  see 
that  Bishop  Cautinus  ...  I  mean  M.  Guitrel,  has 
done  wrong  in  taking  part  in  this  lawful  transaction. 
There  is  no  reason  why  these  copes  of  the  pious 


8        THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

priests  of  Lusancy  should  be  revered  as  relics  of 
the  saints.  There  is  no  sacrilege  in  selling  their 
cast-off  clothes  to  be  turned  into  poufs.'* 

M.  de  Goulet,  who  had  been  nibbling  his  pen  for 
some  moments,  could  not  refrain  from  a  murmur. 
He  deplored  the  fact  that  the  churches  should  be 
thus  robbed  of  their  artistic  treasures  by  infidels. 
The  head  of  the  high  seminary  answered  in  firm 
tones : 

"Let  us,  Monseigneur,  if  you  please,  drop  the 
subject  of  the  trade  to  which  the  friend  of  M. 
Worms-Clavelin,  the  Jewish  prefet,  devotes  him- 
self, and  allow  me  to  enumerate  the  only  too 
definite  complaints  which  I  have  to  bring  against  the 
professor  of  rhetoric  at  the  high  seminary.  I  im- 
pugn :  first,  his  doctrine ;  second,  his  conduct.  I  say 
that  I  indict  first  his  doctrine,  and  that  on  four 
grounds:  first  .   .   ." 

The  Cardinal-Archbishop  stretched  out  both  his 
arms  as  though  to  ward  off  such  a  multitude  of 
charges. 

"Monsieur  Lantaigne,  I  see  that  for  some  time 
the  vicar-general  has  been  biting  his  pen  and  making 
desperate  signs  to  remind  me  that  our  printer  is 
waiting  for  our  pastoral  letter,  which  has  to  be  read 
on  Sunday  in  the  churches  of  our  diocese.  Allow 
me  to  finish  dictating  this  charge,  which,  I  trust, 
will  bring  some  solace  to  our  priests  and  faithful 
people." 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL         9 

Abbe  Lantaigne  bowed,  and  very  sadly  withdrew. 
After  his  departure  the  Cardinal-Archbishop,  turn- 
ing to  M.  de  Goulet,  said: 

"I  did  not  know  that  M.  Guitrel  was  so  friendly 
with  the  prefet.  And  I  am  grateful  to  the  head  of 
the  seminary  for  having  warned  me  of  it.  M. 
Lantaigne  is  sincerity  itself:  I  prize  his  frankness 
and  straightforwardness.  With  him,  one  knows 
where  one  is  .  .  ." 

He  corrected  himself: 

"Where  one  would  be." 


II 


ILANTAIGNE,  principal  of  the  high 
seminary,  was  working  in  his  study, 
the  whitewashed  walls  of  which 
were  three  parts  covered  by  deal 
shelves  loaded  with  the  dark  bind- 
ings of  his  working  library,  the  whole  of  Migne's 
Patrologie,  and  cheap  editions  of  Saint  Thomas 
Aquinas,  Baronius  and  Bossuet.  A  virgin  in  the 
manner  of  Mignard  surmounted  the  door,  with  a 
dusty  sprig  of  box  sticking  out  of  the  old  gilt  frame. 
Uninviting  horsehair  chairs  stood  on  the  red  tiles 
in  front  of  the  windows,  through  which  the  stale 
smell  of  the  refectory  ascended  to  the  cotton  win- 
dow-curtains. 

The  principal,  bending  over  his  little  walnut- 
wood  desk,  was  turning  over  the  pages  of  the 
registers  handed  him  by  Abbe  Perruque,  the  master 
of  method,  who  stood  at  his  side. 

"I  see,"  said  M.  Lantaigne,  "that  again  this  week 
a  hoard  of  sweetmeats  has  been  discovered  in  a 
pupil's  room.  Such  infractions  are  far  too  often 
repeated." 

In  fact,  the  students  of  the  seminary  made  a 
practice  of  hiding  cakes  of  chocolate  among  their 
school-books.     This  was  what  they  called  theology 

xo 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       ii 

Menier.  They  used  to  meet  in  a  room  at  night,  by 
twos  or  threes,  to  discuss  it. 

M.  Lantaigne  begged  the  master  of  method  to 
use  unfaltering  severity. 

"This  disorder  is  deplorable  in  that  it  may  in- 
volve the  most  serious  misconduct." 

He  asked  for  the  register  of  the  rhetoric  class. 
But  when  M.  Perruque  had  handed  it  to  him,  he 
looked  away  from  it.  His  heart  swelled  at  the  idea 
that  sacred  rhetoric  was  taught  by  this  Guitrel,  a 
man  with  neither  morals  nor  learning.  He  sighed 
within  himself: 

"When  will  the  scales  fall  from  the  Cardinal- 
Archbishop's  eyes,  that  he  may  see  the  unworthiness 
of  this  priest?" 

Then,  tearing  himself  from  this  bitter  thought 
only  to  plunge  into  the  bitterness  of  another: 

"And  Piedagnel?"  he  asked. 

For  two  years  Firmin  Piedagnel  had  caused 
incessant  anxiety  to  the  head  of  the  seminary. 
The  only  son  of  a  cobbler  who  kept  his  stall  between 
two  buttresses  of  Saint-Exupere,  he  was,  through 
the  brightness  of  his  intelligence,  the  most  brilliant 
pupil  in  the  house.  Of  placid  temperament,  he  had 
a  very  fair  report  for  conduct.  The  timidity  of 
his  character  and  the  weakness  of  his  constitution 
seemed  a  good  safeguard  for  his  moral  pojrity. 
But  he  had  neither  the  instinct  for  theology  nor  the 
vocation  for  the  priesthood.     His  very  faith  was 


12      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

unstable.  With  his  great  spiritual  knowledge,  M. 
Lantaigne  had  no  inordinate  fear  of  those  violent 
crises  among  his  young  Levites,  which,  often 
salutary,  are  to  be  allayed  by  grace.  He  dreaded, 
on  the  contrary,  the  indifference  of  a  placidly  in- 
tractable mind.  He  almost  despaired  of  a  soul 
to  whom  doubt  was  light  and  bearable  and  whose 
thoughts  flowed  to  irreligion  by  a  natural  inclina- 
tion. Such  a  one  the  shoemaker's  clever  son 
showed  himself  to  be.  M.  Lantaigne  had  one  day 
unexpectedly  chanced,  by  one  of  those  brusque  wiles 
which  were  natural  to  him,  to  plumb  the  depths  of 
this  nature,  double-faced  through  its  courtesy.  He 
perceived  with  consternation  that  from  the  teach- 
ing at  the  seminary  Firmin  had  only  acquired  on 
elegant  Latin  style,  skill  in  sophistry,  and  a  kind  of 
sentimental  mysticism.  From  that  time  Firmin 
had  appeared  to  him  as  a  being  weak  and  formid- 
able, pitiable  and  noxious.  Yet  he  loved  this  lad, 
loved  him  tenderly,  to  infatuation.  In  spite  of  his 
disappointment  it  pleased  him  that  he  should  be  the 
honour,  the  glory  of  the  seminary.  He  loved  in 
Firmin  the  charm  of  his  mind,  the  subtle  harmony 
of  his  style,  and  even  the  tenderness  of  those  pale, 
short-sighted  eyes,  like  bruises  under  the  quivering 
eyelids.  He  sometimes  took  pleasure  in  seeing  in 
him  one  of  the  victims  of  this  Abbe  Guitrel,  whose 
intellectual  and  moral  poverty  must  (so  he  firmly 
believed)    injure    and   depress    an    intelligent    and 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       13 

quick-sighted  pupil.  He  flattered  himself  that,  if 
better  trained  in  the  future,  Firmin,  although  too 
weak  ever  to  give  to  the  Church  one  of  those  power- 
ful leaders  whom  she  so  much  needs,  would  at 
least  produce  for  religion,  perhaps,  a  Pereyve  or  a 
Gerbet,  one  of  those  priests  who  carry  into  the 
priesthood  the  heart  of  a  young  mother.  But,  in- 
capable of  long  self-flattery,  M.  Lantaigne  speedily 
rejected  this  unlikely  hope  and  saw  in  this  lad  a 
Gueroult,  a  Renan.  And  the  sweat  of  anguish 
chilled  his  forehead.  His  fear  was  lest,  in  rearing 
such  pupils,  he  might  be  training  formidable 
enemies  of  the  truth. 

He  knew  that  it  was  in  the  temple  itself  that  the 
hammers  were  forged  which  overthrew  it.  He 
very  often  said:  "Such  is  the  power  of  theological 
discipline  that  it  alone  is  capable  of  rearing  great 
reprobates;  an  unbeliever  who  has  not  passed 
through  our  hands  is  powerless  and  without 
weapons  for  evil.  It  is  within  our  walls  that  they 
imbibe  all  knowledge,  even  that  of  blasphemy." 
From  the  mass  of  the  students  he  only  demanded 
industry  and  integrity,  feeling  certain  that  these 
would  make  good  parish  priests  of  them.  But  in 
his  finest  students  he  feared  curiosity,  pride,  the 
impious  boldness  of  the  intellect,  and  even  the 
qualities  that  brought  the  angels  to  perdition. 

"Monsieur  Perruque,"  said  he  brusquely,  "let  us 
see  the  notes  on  Piedagnel." 


14       THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

The  master  of  method,  with  his  thumb  moistened 
at  his  lips,  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  register, 
and  then  pointed  out  with  his  great  dirt-encircled 
forefinger  the  lines  traced  on  the  margin  of  the 
book: 

M.  Piedagnel  holds  thoughtless  conversations. 

M.  Piedagnel  gives  way  to  depression. 

M.  Piedagnel  refuses  to  take  any  physical 
exercise. 

The  director  read  and  shook  his  head.  He 
turned  the  leaf  and  continued  reading: 

Af.  Piedagnel  has  written  a  poor  essay  on  the 
unity  of  the  faith. 

At  this  Abbe  Lantaigne  burst  out : 

"Unity — that  is  just  what  he  will  never  grasp! 
And  yet  it  is  the  idea  above  all  others  which  ought 
to  be  impressed  on  the  priest's  mind.  For  I  do  not 
fear  to  affirm  that  this  conception  is  entirely  of  God, 
and,  as  it  were.  His  most  vivid  manifestation  among 
men." 

He  turned  his  hollow,  gloomy  gaze  towards  Abbe 
Perruque. 

"This  subject  of  the  unity  of  the  faith.  Monsieur 
Perruque,  is  my  touchstone  by  which  I  try  the 
spirits.  The  simplest  minds,  if  they  do  not  fail  in 
sincerity,  draw  logical  conclusions  from  the  idea  of 
unity;  and  the  most  able  derive  an  admirable  philos- 
ophy from  this  principle.     In  the  pulpit.  Monsieur 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       15 

Perruque,  I  have  three  times  handled  the  unity  of 
the  faith,  and  the  wealth  of  the  subject  still  amazes 
me. 

He  resumed  his  reading: 

M.  Piedagnel  has  compiled  a  note-book,  which 
has  been  found  in  his  desk,  and  which  contains, 
written  in  M.  PiedagneVs  own  hand,  extracts  from 
different  love-poems,  composed  by  Leconte  de  Lisle 
and  Paul  Verlaine,  as  well  as  by  several  other  loose 
writers,  and  the  choice  of  the  extracts  betrays  ex- 
cessive profligacy  both  of  the  niind  and  the  senses. 

He  shut  the  register  and  pushed  it  away  roughly. 
"What  we  lack  nowadays,"  sighed  he,  "is  neither 
learning  nor  intelligence;  it  is  the  theological 
mind." 

"Monsieur,"  said  Abbe  Perruque,  "the  steward 
wants  to  know  if  you  can  receive  him  at  once.  The 
contract  with  Lafolie  for  butcher's  meat  expires  on 
the  fifteenth  of  this  month,  and  they  are  waiting  for 
your  decision  before  renewing  an  arrangement  upon 
which  the  house  can  scarcely  plume  itself.  For  you 
cannot  fail  to  have  remarked  the  bad  quality  of  the 
beef  supplied  by  Lafolie." 

"Tell    the    steward    to    come    in,"     said    M. 
Lantaigne. 

And,  left  alone,  he  put  his  head  in  his  hands  and 
sighed : 

"0  quando  finieris  et  quando  cessabis,  universa 


1 6      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

vanitas  mundif  *  Far  from  Thee,  O  God,  we  are 
but  wandering  shadows.  There  are  no  greater 
crimes  than  those  committed  against  the  unity  of 
the  faith.  Vouchsafe  to  lead  the  world  back  to 
this  blessed  unity!" 

When,  during  the  recreation  hour  after  the  mid- 
day meal,  the  principal  crossed  the  courtyard,  the 
seminarists  were  playing  a  game  of  football.  On 
the  gravelled  playground  there  was  a  great  commo- 
tion of  ruddy  heads  poised  on  stalks  like  black 
knife-handles,  the  jerky  gestures  of  puppets,  and 
shouts  and  cries  in  all  the  rustic  dialects  oi  ttc 
diocese.  The  master  of  method.  Abbe  Perruque, 
his  cassock  tucked  up,  was  joining  in  the  game  with 
the  zest  of  a  cloistered  peasant,  drunk  with  air  and 
exercise,  and  in  athletic  style  was  kicking  from  the 
toe  of  his  buckled  shoe  the  huge  ball  covered  with 
Its  leather  quarters.  At  sight  of  the  principal  the 
players  stopped.  M.  Lantaigne  made  a  sign  to 
them  to  continue.  He  followed  the  grove  of 
stunted  acacia  trees  that  fringes  the  courtyard  on 
the  side  towards  the  ramparts  and  the  country. 
Halfway  along  he  met  three  pupils  who,  arm  in 
arm,  were  walking  up  and  down  as  they  talked. 
Since  they  usually  spent  the  recreation  hours  in  this 
way,  they  were  called  the  peripatetics.  M.  Lan- 
taigne called  one  of  them,  the  shortest,  a  pale-faced 

•  "When  wilt  thou  end,  when  wilt  thou  cease  to  be,  oh,  ever- 
present  vanity  of  this  world?" 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       17 

lad,  with  slightly  stooping  shoulders,  a  refined  and 
mocking  mouth,  and  timid  eyes.  He  did  not  hear 
at  first,  and  his  neighbour  had  to  nudge  him  with  an 
elbow  and  say  to  him: 

"Piedagnel,  the  principal  is  calling  you." 

At  this  Piedagnel  approached  Abbe  Lantalgne 
and  bowed  to  him  with  a  half-graceful  clumsiness. 

"My  child,"  said  the  principal  to  him,  "you  will 
be  so  good  as  to  be  my  server  at  mass  to-morrow." 

The  young  man  blushed.  It  was  a  coveted 
honour  to  serve  the  principal's  mass. 

Abbe  Lantaigne,  his  breviary  under  his  arm,  went 
out  by  the  little  door  that  opens  on  the  fields  and 
and  took  the  customary  road  in  his  walks,  a  dusty 
track  edged  with  nettles  and  thistles  that  follows 
the  ramparts. 

He  was  thinking: 

"What  will  become  of  this  poor  child,  if  he  is 
suddenly  expelled,  ignorant  of  any  sort  of  manual 
labour,  weak,  delicate,  and  timid?  And  what 
grief  there  will  be   in  his  infirm  father's  shop  I" 

He  walked  along  over  the  flints  of  the  barren 
road.  Having  reached  the  mission  cross,  he  took 
off  his  hat,  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  fore- 
head with  his  silk  handkerchief,  and  said  in  a  low 
voice : 

"Oh  God,  inspire  me  to  act  according  to  Thy 
interests,  whatever  it  may  cost  my  paternal  heart  I" 

At  half-past  six  next  morning  Abbe  Lantaigne 


1 8       THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

was  saying  the  concluding  words  of  the  mass  in  the 
bare,  deserted  chapel. 

In  front  of  a  side-altar  a  solitary  old  sacristan 
was  setting  paper  flowers  in  porcelain  vases, 
beneath  the  gilt  statue  of  Saint  Joseph.  A  grey, 
rainy  daylight  poured  sadly  through  the  blurred 
window-panes.  The  celebraiit,  upright  at  the  left 
of  the  high  altar,  was  reading  the  last  Gospel. 

"Et  Verbum  caro  factum  est,"  said  he,  bending 
his  knees. 

Firmin  Piedagnel,  who  was  serving  the  mass, 
knelt  at  the  same  time  on  the  step  where  stood  the 
bell;  then  he  rose  and,  after  the  last  responses,  pre- 
ceded the  priest  into  the  sacristy.  Abbe  Lantaigne 
set  down  the  chalice  with  the  corporal  and  waited 
for  the  server  to  help  him  remove  his  priestly 
vestments.  Firmin  Piedagnel,  being  sensitive  to  the 
mysterious  influences  of  things,  felt  the  charm  of 
this  scene,  so  simple  and  yet  so  sacred.  His  soul, 
suffused  with  tender  unction,  tasted  with  a  kind 
of  joy  the  familiar  grandeur  of  the  priesthood. 
Never  had  he  felt  so  deeply  the  desire  to  be  a 
priest  and  in  his  turn  to  celebrate  the  holy  sacrifice. 
Having  kissed  and  carefully  folded  up  the  alb  and 
chasuble,  he  bowed  before  Abbe  Lantaigne  ere 
retiring.  The  head  of  the  seminary,  who  had  re- 
sumed his  great-coat,  made  a  sign  to  him  to  stay, 
and  looked  at  him  with  such  nobility  and  kindness 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       19 

that  the  young  man  received  the  look  as  a  favour 
and  a  blessing.     After  a  long  silence : 

"My  child,"  said  M.  Lantaigne,  "whilst  cele- 
brating this  mass  which  I  asked  you  to  serve,  I 
prayed  God  to  give  me  the  strength  to  send  you 
,away.  My  prayer  has  been  granted.  You  are  no 
longer  a  member  of  this  household." 

As  he  took  in  these  words,  Firmin  was  stupefied. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  the  flooring  was  giving  way 
beneath  his  feet.  Through  eyes  big  with  tears,  he 
vaguely  saw  the  lonely  road,  the  rain,  a  life 
darkened  with  misery  and  toil,  the  fate  of  a  lost 
child  terrified  by  its  own  weakness  and  timidity. 
He  looked  at  M.  Lantaigne.  The  resolute  gentle- 
ness, the  quiet  strength,  the  calmness  of  this  man 
revolted  him.  Suddenly  a  feeling  was  born  and 
grew  in  him,  a  feeling  that  sustained  and  strength- 
ened him,  a  hatred  of  the  priest,  a  deathless  and 
fruitful  hatred,  a  hatred  to  fill  a  whole  life.  With- 
out uttering  a  word,  he  went  with  great  strides  out 
of  the  sacristy. 


Ill 


BBE  LANTAIGNE,  head  of  the 
high  seminary  of  .  .  .,  wrote  the 
following  letter  to  Monseigneur  the 
Cardinal-Archbishop  of  .  .  .  : 
"Monseigneur, 
"When,  on  the  17th  of  this  month,  I  had  the 
honour  of  being  received  by  Your  Eminence,  I 
feared  to  trespass  on  your  paternal  kindness  and 
on  your  pastoral  clemency  by  expounding  at  suffi- 
cient length  the  matter  about  which  I  came  to  con- 
verse with  you.  But  as  this  affair  reflects  on  your 
high  and  holy  jurisdiction  and  concerns  the  govern- 
ment of  this  diocese,  which  counts  among  the  most 
ancient  and  beautiful  provinces  of  Christian  Gaul, 
I  conceive  it  to  be  my  duty  to  submit  to  the  watchful 
impartiality  of  Your  Eminence  the  facts  concern- 
ing which  it  is  called  upon  to  judge  in  the  plenitude 
of  its  authority  and  in  the  fulness  of  its  wisdom. 

"In  bringing  these  facts  to  the  knowledge  of 
Your  Eminence,  I  am  fulfilling  a  duty  which  I 
should  characterize  as  painful  to  my  heart,  if  I  did 
not  know  that  the  accomplishment  of  every  duty 
brings  to  the  scml  an  Inexhaustible  spring  of  con- 
solation, and  that  it  is  not  enough  to  obey  God,  if 
one  docs  not  obey  Him  with  ready  gladness. 

30 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       21 

"The  facts  which  it  behoves  you  to  know,  Mon- 
siegneur,  relate  to  Abbe  Guitrel,  professor  of 
rhetoric  at  the  high  seminary.  I  will  state  them 
as  briefly  and  as  accurately  as  possible. 

"These  facts  concern: 

"First,  the  doctrine; 

"Second,  the  morals  of  Abbe  Guitrel. 

"I  will  first  state  the  facts  relating  to  M. 
Guitrel's  doctrine. 

"On  reading  the  note-books  from  which  he 
delivers  his  lectures  on  sacred  rhetoric,  I  noticed  in 
them  various  opinions  which  do  not  agree  with  the 
tradition  of  the  Church. 

"First,  M.  Guitrel,  whilst  condemning  as  to  their 
conclusions  the  commentaries  on  Holy  Scripture 
drawn  up  by  atheists  and  so-called  reformers,  does 
not  condemn  them  in  their  principle  and  origin,  in 
which  he  is  seriously  in  error.  For  it  is  evident 
that,  the  care  of  the  Scriptures  having  been  confided 
to  the  Church,  the  Church  alone  is  capable  of  inter- 
preting the  books  which  she  alone  preserves. 

"Second,  led  astray  by  the  recent  example  of  a 
monk  who  thirsted  for  the  applause  of  the  age, 
M.  Guitrel  presumes  to  explain  the  scenes  of  he 
Gospel  by  means  of  that  pretended  local  colour  and 
that  pseudo-psychology  of  which  the  Germans  make 
a  great  show;  and  he  does  not  perceive  that,  by 
thus  walking  in  the  way  of  infidels,  he  is  skiiting  the 
abyss    into    which    they    have    fallen.      I    should 


22      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

weary  the  benevolent  attention  of  His  Eminence 
Monseigneur  the  Cardinal-Archbishop  were  I  to 
place  before  his  reverend  glance  the  passages  where 
M.  Guitrel  with  pitiable  childishness  follows  the 
narratives  of  travellers,  as  to  'the  boat-service  on  the 
Lake  of  Tiberias,'  and  those  where,  with  in- 
tolerable indecency,  he  describes  what  he  calls  'the 
soul-states'  and  'the  psychic  crises'  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. 

"These  foolish  innovations,  blameworthy  in  a 
cloistered  worldling,  should  not  be  tolerated  in  a 
secular  cleric  entrusted  with  the  instruction  of 
young  aspirants  to  the  priesthood.  Hence  I  was 
more  grieved  than  surprised  when  I  heard  that  an 
intelligent  pupil,  whom  I  have  since  been  obliged  to 
expel  for  his  bad  disposition,  described  the  profes- 
sor of  rhetoric  as  a  'fin  de  siecle'  priest. 

"Third,  M.  Guitrel  affects  a  culpable  laxity  in 
relying  on  the  untrustworthy  authority  of  Clement 
of  Alexandria,  who  is  not  included  in  the  martyr- 
ology.  In  this  the  professor  of  rhetoric  betrays  the 
weakness  of  a  mind  misled  by  the  example  of  the 
so-called  mystics,  who  imagine  that  they  find  in  the 
Stromata  a  purely  allegorical  interpretation  of  the 
most  concrete  mysteries  of  the  Christian  faith. 
And,  without  actually  going  astray,  M.  Guitrel 
shows  J  imself  in  this  matter,  to  be  inconsistent  and 
light-miiided. 

"Fourth,  since  depravity  of  taste  is  one  of  the 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       23 

results  of  doctrinal  weakness,  and  since  a  mind 
which  rejects  strong  food  battens  on  worthless 
nourishment,  M.  Guitrel  seeks  models  of  eloquence 
for  the  use  of  his  pupils  even  in  the  speeches  of  M. 
Lacordaire  and  the  homilies  of  M.  Gratry. 

"Secondly,  I  will  enumerate  the  facts  relating  to 
M.   Guitrel's  morals. 

"First,  Abbe  Guitrel  consorts  with  M.  le  prefet 
Worms-Clavelin  both  secretly  and  constantly,  and 
in  this  he  throws  off  the  reserve  which  it  always 
behoves  an  ecclesiastic  of  lower  rank  to  observe  in 
relation  to  the  public  authorities,  a  reserve  which, 
under  present  circumstances  and  towards  a  Jewish 
official,  there  is  no  excuse  for  dropping.  And  by 
the  care  which  he  takes  never  to  enter  the  prefec- 
ture save  by  a  private  door,  M.  Guitrel  seems  to  ac- 
knowledge to  himself  the  falseness  of  a  position 
which  he  nevertheless  maintains. 

"It  is  also  notorious  that  M.  Guitrel  occupies  a 
position  with  respect  to  Madame  Worms-Clavelin 
that  is  more  mercantile  than  religious.  This  lady 
is  fond  of  antiquities,  and  although  a  Jewess,  she 
does  not  despise  any  articles  connected  with  religion, 
provided  that  they  have  the  merit  of  art  or  of 
antiquity.  It  is  unhappily  well  attested  that  M. 
Guitrel  busies  himself  in  buying  for  Madame 
Worms-Clavelin  at  an  absurd  price  the  antique 
furniture  of  village  parsonages,  left  in  the  care  of 
ignorant     churchwardens.     In     this     way    carved 


24       THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

wainscoting,  priestly  vestments,  chalices,  and  pyxes 
are  torn  from  the  sacristies  of  your  rural  churches, 
Monseigneur,  in  order  that  at  the  prefecture  they 
may  adorn  the  private  apartments  of  M.  and 
Madame  Worms-Clavelin.  And  everybody  knows 
that  Madame  Worms-Clavelin  has  trimmed  with 
the  splendid  and  sacred  copes  of  Saint-Porchaire 
the  species  of  furniture  vulgarly  called  'poufs.' 
I  do  not  imply  that  M.  Guitrel  has  derived  any 
material  and  direct  profit  from  these  transactions; 
but  it  must  needs  grieve  your  paternal  heart  that  a 
priest  of  the  diocese  should  have  joined  in  robbing 
your  churches  of  that  wealth  which  proves,  even 
in  the  eyes  of  unbelievers,  the  superiority  of  Chris- 
tian to  profane  art. 

"Second,  without  complaint  or  protest  Abbe 
Guitrel  allows  the  rumour  to  spread  and  grow  that 
his  elevation  to  the  vacant  bishopric  of  Tourcoing 
is  favoured  by  the  President  of  the  Council,  the 
Minister  for  Justice  and  Religion.  Now  this 
rumour  is  prejudicial  to  the  minister,  for,  although 
a  freethinker  and  a  freemason,  he  ought  to  be  too 
careful  of  the  interests  of  the  Church  over  which 
he  has  been  appointed  civil  overseer  to  place  in  the 
seat  of  the  blessed  Loup  a  priest  such  as  M.  Gui- 
trel. >  And  if  this  invention  were  to  be  traced  to 
its  source,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  in  M.  Guitrel  him- 
self would  be  found  the  first  and  foremost  contriver 
of  it. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      25 

"Third,  having  formerly  occupied  his  leisure 
in  translating  into  French  verse  the  Bucolics  of 
that  Latin  poet  called  Calpurnius,  whom  the  best 
critics  agree  in  relegating  to  the  lowest  class  of 
insipid  babblers,  Abbe  Guitrel,  with  a  carelessness 
which  I  would  fain  believe  to  be  quite  unintentional, 
has  allowed  this  work  of  his  youth  to  circulate  pri- 
vately. A  copy  of  the  Bucolics  was  addressed  to 
the  freethinking  radical  paper  of  the  district,  le 
Phare^  which  published  extracts  from  it;  among 
them  there  occurred  in  particular  this  line,  which 
I  blush  to  put  before  the  paternal  eyes  of  Your 
Eminence : 

"And  our  heaven  of  bliss  is  a  well-loved  breast.* 

"This  quotation  was  accompanied  in  le  Phare 
by  the  most  derogatory  comments  on  the  private 
character,  as  well  as  the  literary  taste,  of  Abbe 
Guitrel.  And  the  editor,  whose  ill-will  is  only  too 
well  known  to  Your  Eminence,  took  this  wretched 
line  as  a  pretext  for  charges  of  wanton  thoughts 
and  dishonourable  intentions  generally  against  all 
professors  of  the  high  seminary,  and  even  against 
all  the  priests  in  the  diocese.  This  is  why,  with- 
out inquiring  whether  as  a  scholar  M.  Guitrel  had 
any  excuse  for  translating  Calpurnius,  I  deplore 
the  publication  of  his  work  as  the  cause  of  a  scandal 
which,  I  am  sure,  was  more  bitter  to  your  benevo- 
lent heart,  Monseigneur,  than  gall  and  wormwood. 

*  "Notre  ciel  i  nous,  c'est  un  sein  ch6ri." 


26       THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

"Fourth,  M.  Guitrel  is  in  the  habit  of  going  every 
day  at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  to  the  confec- 
tioner's shop  kept  by  Dame  Magloire,  in  the  Place 
Saint-Exupere.  And  there,  leaning  over  the  side- 
boards, counters  and  tables,  he  examines  with  deep 
interest  and  careful  diligence  the  dainties  piled  up 
on  plates  and  dishes.  Then,  stopping  at  the  spot 
where  are  arranged  the  kinds  of  cakes  which  they 
tell  me  are  called  eclairs  and  babas,  he  touches  first 
one  and  then  another  of  these  pastries  with  the  tip 
of  his  finger,  and  afterward  has  these  dainty  mor- 
sels wrapped  up  in  a  sheet  of  paper.  Far  be  it  from 
me  to  bring  a  charge  of  sensuality  against  him  on 
account  of  this  ridiculously  careful  choice  of  a  few 
cream-cakes  or  sugar-pasties.  But  if  one  reflects 
that  he  goes  to  Dame  Magloire's  at  the  very  mo- 
ment when  the  shop  is  thronged  with  fashionable 
folk  of  both  sexes,  and  that  he  makes  himself  a 
butt  for  the  jests  of  worldlings,  one  will  ask  one- 
self whether  the  professor  of  rhetoric  at  the  high 
seminary  does  not  leave  some  part  of  his  dignity 
behind  him  in  the  confectioner's  shop.  In  fact,  the 
choice  of  two  cakes  has  not  escaped  the  ill-natured 
comment  of  observers,  and  it  is  said,  either  rightly 
or  wrongly,  that  M.  Guitrel  keeps  one  for  himself 
and  gives  the  other  to  his  servant.  He  may  doubt- 
less, without  incurring  any  blame,  share  any  dain- 
ties with  the  woman  attached  to  his  service,  es- 
pecially if  that  woman  has  attained  the  canonical 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       27 

age.  But  malicious  gossip  interprets  this  in- 
timacy and  familiarity  in  the  most  shameful  sense, 
and  I  should  never  dare  to  repeat  to  Your  Emi- 
nence the  remarks  which  are  made  in  the  town  as 
to  the  relations  between  M.  Guitrel  and  his  domes- 
tic. I  do  not  wish  to  entertain  these  charges. 
Nevertheless,  Your  Eminence  will  see  that  M.  Gui- 
trel is  not  easily  to  be  excused  for  having  given 
a  show  of  truth  to  the  calumny  by  his  mischievous 
behaviour.  I  have  related  the  facts.  It  now  re- 
mains for  me  only  to  conclude. 

"I  have  the  honour  to  propose  that  Your  Emi- 
nence should  cancel  the  appointment  of  M.  Guitrel 
(Joachim)  as  professor  of  sacred  rhetoric  at  the 
high  seminary  of  .  .  .,  in  accordance  with  your 
spiritual  powers  as  recognized  by  the  State  (de- 
cree of  17th  March,  1808). 

"Vouchsafe,  Monseigneur,  to  continue  your 
paternal  kindness  towards  one  who,  being  placed 
in  command  of  your  seminary,  has  no  dearer  wish 
than  to  give  you  proofs  of  his  complete  devotion 
and  of  the  profound  respect  with  which  he  has 
the  honour  to  be, 

"Monseigneur, 
"The  most  humble  and  obedient  servant 
of  Your  .Eminence, 

"Lantaigne." 

Having  written  this  letter,  M.  Lantaigne  sealed 
It  with  his  seal. 


IV 


T  is  true  that  Abbe  Guitrel,  pro- 
fessor of  sacred  rhetoric  at  the  high 
seminary  of  .  .  .,  was  intimately 
connected  with  M.  le  prefet  Worms- 
Clavelin  and  with  Madame  Worms- 
Clavelin,  nee  Coblentz.  But  Abbe  Lantaigne  was 
wrong  in  believing  that  M.  Guitrel  frequented  the 
drawing-rooms  of  the  prefecture,  where  his  pres- 
ence would  have  been  equally  disquieting  to  the 
Archbishop  and  to  the  masonic  lodges,  since  the 
prefet  was  master  of  the  lodge  "The  Rising  Sun." 
It  was  in  the  confectioner's  shop  kept  by  Dame 
Magloire  in  the  Place  Saint-Exupere,  where  he 
went  every  Saturday  at  five  o'clock  to  buy  two  little 
three-sou  cakes,  one  for  his  servant  and  the  other 
for  himself,  that  the  priest  had  met  the  prefet's 
wife,  while  she  was  eating  babas  there  in  the  com- 
pany of  Madame  Lacarelle,  wife  of  M.  le  prefet*s 
private  secretary. 

By  his  demeanour,  at  once  obsequious  and  dis- 
creet, which  inspired  entire  confidence  and  removed 
all  apprehensions,  the  professor  of  sacred  rhetoric 
had  instantly  gained  the  good  graces  of  Madame 
Worms-Clavelin,  to  whom  he  suggested  the  mind, 
the  face,  and  almost  the  sex  of  those  old-clothes 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       29 

women,  the  guardian  angels  of  her  youth  in  the 
difficult  days  of  Batignolles  and  the  Place  Clichy, 
when  Noemi  Coblentz  had  finished  growing  up  and 
was  beginning  to  fade  in  the  business  office  kept  by 
her  father  Isaac  in  the  midst  of  distress-sales  and 
police-raids.  One  of  these  dealers  in  second-hand 
clothes,  a  Madame  Vacherie,  who  esteemed  her, 
had  acted  as  go-between  for  her  and  an  active  and 
promising  young  barrister,  M.  Theodore  Worms- 
Clavelin,  who,  finding  her  seriously-minded  and 
practically  useful,  had  married  her  after  the  birth 
of  their  daughter  Jeanne,  and  she  in  return  had 
cleverly  pushed  him  in  the  administration.  Abbe 
Guitrel  was  very  much  like  Madame  Vacherie. 
They  had  the  same  look,  the  same  voice,  the  same 
gestures.  This  propitious  likeness  had  aroused  in 
Madame  Worms-Clavelin  a  sudden  sympathy. 
Besides,  she  had  always  revered  the  Catholic  clergy 
as  one  of  the  powers  of  this  world.  She  consti- 
tuted herself  M.  Guitrel's  advocate  in  her  husband's 
good  graces.  M.  Worms-Clavelin,  who  recognised 
in  his  wife  a  quality  that  remained  him  a  deep  mys- 
tery, the  quality  of  tact,  and  who  knew  her  to  be 
clever,  received  Abbe  Guitrel  courteously  the  first 
time  he  met  him  in  the  jeweller's  shop  kept  by  Ron- 
donneau  junior  in  the  Rue  des  Tintelleries. 

He  had  gone  there  to  see  the  designs  for  the  cups 
ordered  by  the  State  to  be  given  as  prizes  in  the 
races  organised  by  the  Society  for  the  Improvement 


30       THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

of  Horse-breeding.  After  that  visit  he  frequently 
returned  to  the  goldsmith's,  drawn  by  an  innate 
taste  for  precious  metals.  On  his  side,  Abbe  Gui- 
trel  contrived  frequent  occasions  for  visiting  the 
show-rooms  of  Rondonneau  the  younger,  maker  of 
sacred  vessels:  candlesticks,  lamps,  pyxes,  chalices, 
patens,  monstrances,  and  tabernacles.  The  prefet 
and  the  priest  were  not  ill-pleased  at  these  meetings 
in  the  first-storey  show-rooms,  out  of  sight  of  pry- 
ing eyes,  In  front  of  a  counter  loaded  with  bullion 
and  amidst  vases  and  statuettes  that  M.  Worms- 
Clavelin  called  bondieuseries*  Stretched  out  in 
Rondonneau  junior's  one  arm-chair,  M.  Worms- 
Clavelin  sent  a  little  wave  of  his  hand  to  M.  Gui- 
trel,  who,  black  and  fat,  stole  along  by  the  glass 
cases  like  a  great  rat. 

"Good-day,  monsieur  Tabbe.  Delighted  to  see 
you!" 

And  it  was  true.  He  vaguely  felt  that,  in  con- 
tact with  this  ecclesiastic  of  peasant  stock,  as  French 
in  priestly  character  and  in  type  as  the  blackened 
stones  of  Saint-Exupere  and  the  old  trees  on  the 
Mall,  he  was  frenchifying  himself,  naturalising  him- 
self, stripping  off  the  ponderous  remnants  of  his 
German  and  Semitic  descent.  Intimacy  with  a 
priest  was  flattering  to  the  Jewish  official.  In  it 
he  tasted,  without  actually  acknowledging  it  to  him- 
self, the  pride  of  revenge.     To  browbeat,  to  pa- 

•Lit.  good-goderies — i.e.,  pious  gimcrackerics. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       31 

tronise  one  of  those  tonsured  heads  entrusted  for 
eighteen  centuries,  both  by  heaven  and  earth,  with 
the  excommunication  and  extermination  of  the  cir- 
cumcised, was  for  the  Jew  a  keen  and  flattering 
success.  And  besides,  this  dirty,  threadbare,  yet 
respected,  cassock  that  bowed  before  him  entered 
chateaux  where  the  prefet  was  not  received.  The 
aristocratic  women  of  the  department  revered  this 
garb  now  humiliated  before  the  official  uniform. 
Deference  from  one  of  the  clergy  was  almost  equiv- 
alent to  deference  from  that  rural  nobility  that  had 
not  completely  come  over,  and  of  whose  scornful 
coldness  the  Jew,  though  by  no  means  sensitive,  had 
had  painful  experiences.  M.  Guitrel,  humble,  yet 
with  finesse,  made  his  deference  appreciated. 

Being  honoured  as  a  powerful  master  by  this 
ecclesiastical  politician,  the  head  of  the  department 
returned  in  patronage  what  he  received  in  defer- 
ence, and  flung  conciliatory  speeches  at  Abbe  Gui- 
trel: 

"Doubtless  there  are  good,  devoted,  and  intelli- 
gent priests.  When  the  clergy  takes  its  stand  upon 
its  privileges  .  .  ." 

And  Abbe  Guitrel  bowed. 

M.  Worms-Clavelin  went  on: 

"The  Republic  does  not  wage  systematic  war  on 
the  parish  priests.  And,  if  the  fraternities  had  sub- 
mitted to  the  law,  many  of  their  difficulties  would 
have  been  avoided." 


32      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

And  M.  Guitrel  protested: 

"It  is  a  matter  of  principle.  I  should  have  de- 
cided in  favour  of  the  fraternities.  It  is  also  a 
matter  of  business.  The  fraternities  did  a  great 
deal  of  good." 

The  prefet  summed  up  from  out  of  the  cloud  of 
his  cigar-smoke. 

"Harking  back  over  what  has  been  done  is  use- 
less.    But  the  new  spirit  is  a  spirit  of  conciliation." 

And  again  M.  Guitrel  bowed,  while  Rondonneau 
junior  bent  over  his  account  books  his  bald  head 
where  the  flies  pitched. 

One  day,  being  asked  to  give  her  opinion  about  a 
vase  that  the  prefet  was  to  present  with  his  own 
hand  to  the  winner  in  the  race  for  draught-horses, 
Madame  Worms-Clavelin  came  to  Rondonneau 
junior's  with  her  husband.  She  found  M.  Guitrel 
in  the  jeweller's  office.  He  made  a  feint  to  leave 
the  place.  But  they  begged  him  to  remain.  They 
even  consulted  him  as  to  the  nymphs  who  formed, 
by  their  bending  figures,  the  handles  of  the  cup. 
The  prefet  would  have  preferred  them  to  be  Ama- 
zons. 

"Amazons,  doubtless,"  murmured  the  professor 
of  sacred  rhetoric. 

Madame  Worms-Clavelin  would  have  liked  cen- 
tauresses. 

"Centauresses,  yes,  yes,"  said  the  priest;  "or 
rather  centaurs." 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       33 

Meanwhile  Rondonneau  junior  was  holding  up 
the  wax  model  in  his  fingers  in  front  of  the  specta- 
tors and  smiling  in  admiration. 

"Monsieur  I'abbe,"  asked  the  prefet,  "does  the 
Church  always  ban  the  nude  in  art?" 

M.  Guitrel  replied: 

"The  Church  has  never  absolutely  proscribed 
nude  studies;  but  she  has  always  judiciously  re- 
strained their  employment," 

Madame  Worms-Clavelin  looked  at  the  priest 
and  thought  how  remarkably  like  Madame  Va- 
cherie  he  was.  She  confided  to  him  that  she  had  a 
passion  for  curios,  that  she  was  mad  about  bro- 
cades, stamped  velvets,  gold  fringes,  embroidery 
and  lace.  She  disclosed  to  him  the  covetous  de- 
sires accumulated  in  her  mind  since  the  days  when 
she  used  to  trail  in  her  youth  and  poverty  in  front 
of  the  shop-windows  of  the  second-hand  dealers  in 
the  Quartier  Breda.  She  told  him  that  she  had 
dreams  of  a  salon  with  old  copes  and  old  chasubles, 
and  that  she  was  also  collecting  antique  jewels. 

He  answered  that  in  truth  the  ornaments  of  the 
priests  provided  precious  models  for  artists,  and 
that  there  we  had  proof  that  the  Church  was  no 
enemy  to  art. 

From  that  day  forward  M.  Guitrel  began  to  hunt 
in  the  country  sacristies  for  splendid  antiques,  and 
scarcely  a  week  passed  that  he  did  not  carry  into 
Rondonneau  junior's,  under  his  great-coat,  a  chasu- 


34      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

ble  or  a  cope,  adroitly  pillaged  from  some  innocent 
priest.  M.  Guitrel  was,  moreover,  very  scrupulous 
in  remitting  to  the  rifled  vestry-board  the  hundred- 
sou  piece  with  which  the  prefet  paid  for  the  silk, 
the  brocade,  the  velvet  and  the  lace. 

In  six  months'  time  Madame  Worms-Clavelin's 
drawing-room  had  become  like  a  cathedral  treas- 
ury; a  clinging  odour  of  incense  lingered  round  it. 

One  summer  day  in  that  year,  M.  Guitrel,  accord- 
ing to  custom,  mounted  the  goldsmith's  stairs,  and 
found  M.  Worms-Clavelin  puffing  away  merrily  in 
the  shop.  For  the  day  before  the  prefet  had  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  his  candidate,  a  cattle-breeder, 
and  young  turn-coat  royalist,  returned;  and  he  was 
counting  on  the  approval  of  the  minister,  who  se- 
cretly preferred  the  new  to  the  old  republicans  as 
being  less  exacting  and  more  humble.  In  the  ela- 
tion of  his  boisterous  satisfaction,  he  slapped  the 
priest  on  the  shoulder : 

"Monsieur  I'abbe,  what  we  want  is  many  priests 
like  you,  enlightened,  tolerant,  free  from  preju- 
dices— for  you  haven't  any  prejudices,  not  youl — 
priests  who  recognise  the  needs  of  the  present  day 
and  the  requirements  of  a  democratic  society.  If 
the  episcopate,  if  the  French  clergy  would  only  catch 
the  progressive  yet  conservative  sentiments  that  the 
Republic  professes,  they  would  still  have  a  fine  part 
to  play." 

Then,  amidst  the  smoke  of  his  big  cigar,  he  ex- 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       35 

pounded  ideas  on  religion  which  testified  to  an  igno- 
rance that  filled  M.  Guitrel  with  inward  dismay. 
The  prefet,  however,  declared  himself  to  be  more 
Christian  than  many  Christians,  and  in  the  language 
of  the  masonic  lodge  he  extolled  the  moral  teaching 
of  Jesus,  while  he  rejected  indiscriminately  local 
superstitions  and  fundamental  dogmas,  the  needles 
thrown  into  the  piscina  of  Saint  Phal  by  marriage- 
able girls,  and  the  real  presence  in  the  Eucharist. 

M.  Guitrel,  an  easy-going  soul,  but  incapable  of 
yielding  a  point  as  to  dogma,  stammered  out : 

"One  must  make  a  distinction,  monsieur  le  prefet, 
one  must  make  a  distinction." 

In  order  to  make  a  diversion,  he  drew  out  from  a 
pocket  of  his  great-coat  a  roll  of  parchment  which  he 
opened  on  the  counter.  It  was  a  large  page  of 
plain-chant,  with  Gothic  text  under  the  four-line 
divisions,  with  rubrics  and  a  decorated  initial. 

The  prefet  fixed  his  great,  lamp-globe  eyes  on  the 
page.  Rondonneau  junior,  stretching  out  his  rosy 
bald  head,  said : 

"The  miniature  in  the  initial  is  rather  fine.  It's 
Saint  Agatha,  isn't  it?" 

"The  martyrdom  of  Saint  Agatha,"  said  M.  Gui- 
trel. "Here  are  seen  the  executioners  torturing  the 
breasts  of  the  saint." 

And  he  added  in  a  voice  which  flowed  as  sweetly 
as  thick  syrup : 

"According  to  authentic  records,  such  was  in  fact 


36      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

the  torment  Inflicted  on  Saint  Agatha  of  blessed 
memory  by  the  proconsul.  A  page  from  an  anti- 
phonary,  Monsieur  le  prefet — a  trifle,  a  mere  trifle, 
which  perhaps  will  find  a  little  niche  in  the  collec- 
tions of  Madame  Worms-Clavelin,  so  devoted  to 
our  Christian  antiquities.  This  page  gives  us  a 
fragment  of  the  proper  of  the  saint." 

And  he  deciphered  the  Latin  text,  marking  the 
tonic  accent  energetically: 

"Dum  torqueretur  heata  Agata  in  mamilld  gravi- 
ter  dixit  ad  judicem:  'Impie,  crudelis  et  dire  tyr- 
anne,  non  es  confusus  amputare  in  femind  quod  ipse 
in  matre  su:)iisti?  Ego  habeo  mamillas  integras  in- 
tus  in  animd  quas  Domino  consecravi.'  "* 

The  prefet,  who  was  a  graduate,  half  understood, 
and  in  his  desire  to  appear  Gallic,  remarked  that  it 
was  piquant. 

"Naive,"  answered  Abbe  Guitrel  gently,  "naive." 

M.  Worms-Clavelin  granted  that  the  language  of 
the  Middle  Ages  had,  in  fact,  a  certain  naivete. 

"It  has  also  sublimity,"  said  M.  Guitrel. 

But  the  prefet  was  rather  inclined  to  seek  in 
Church  Latin  for  the  piquancy  of  broad  humour,  and 
it  was  with  a  sly  little  laugh  of  obstinacy  that  he 

*  "While  the  blessed  Agatha  was  being  cruelly  tortured  in  the 
breast,  she  said  to  the  judge:  'Oh,  wicked,  cruel,  and  savage 
tyrant,  art  thou  not  ashamed  to  mutilate  in  a  woman  that  with 
which  your  mother  fed  you?  Within  my  soul  I  have  breasts 
undesecrated  which  I  have  sanctified  to  God.' " 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      37 

crammed  the  parchment  into  his  pocket,  with  many 
thanks  to  his  dear  Guitrel  for  this  discovery. 

Then,  pushing  the  Abbe  into  the  window-recess, 
he  whispered  in  his  ear: 

"My  dear  Guitrel,  when  the  chance  comes,  I  will 
do  something  for  you." 


HERE  was  one  party  in  the  town 
which  openly  declared  that  Abbe 
Lantaigne,  principal  of  the  high 
seminary,  was  a  priest  worthy  of  a 
bishopric  and  fitted  to  fill  the  vacant 
see  of  Tourcoing  honourably,  until  the  time  when 
Monseigneur  Chariot's  death  should  enable  him, 
cross  in  hand  and  amethyst  on  finger,  to  assume  the 
mitre  in  the  town  that  had  witnessed  his  labours  and 
his  merits.  This  was  the  scheme  of  the  venerable 
M.  Cassignol,  ex-president  in  chief,  and  a  State  pen- 
sioner of  twenty-five  years'  standing.  With  these 
plans  were  associated  M.  Lerond,  deputy  attorney- 
general  at  the  time  of  the  decrees,*  now  a  barrister 
practising  at  .  .  .,  and  Abbe  de  Lalonde,  formerly 
an  Army  chaplain,  and  now  chaplain  to  the  Dames 
du  Salut.  These,  belonging  to  the  most  respected, 
but  not  to  the  most  influential,  class  in  the  town, 
made  up  practically  the  whole  of  Abbe  Lantaigne's 
party.  The  head  of  the  high  seminary  had  been 
invited  to  dine  with  M.  Cassignol,  the  chief  presi- 
dent, who  said  to  him,  in  the  presence  of  M.  de 
Lalonde  and  M.  Lerond: 

"Monsieur  I'abbe,  put  yourself  forward  as  a  can- 

•The  coup   d'etat  of   1851. 
38 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       39 

didate.  When  it  shall  come  to  a  choice  between 
Abbe  Lantaigne,  who  has  so  nobly  served  both  reli- 
gion and  Christian  France  by  pen  and  tongue,  who 
has  protected  the  oft-betrayed  cause  of  the  rights  of 
the  French  Church  within  the  Catholic  Church  with 
the  force  of  his  mental  endowments  and  high  char- 
acter, and  M.  Guitrel,  none  will  have  the  effrontery 
to  hesitate.  And  since  it  seems  that  this  time  the 
honour  of  supplying  a  bishop  for  the  town  of  Tour- 
coing  is  to  fall  to  our  city,  the  faithful  of  the  diocese 
are  willing  to  lose  you  for  a  time  for  the  good  of  the 
episcopate  as  well  as  of  Christendom." 

And  the  venerable  M.  Cassignol,  who  was  now  in 
his  eighty-sixth  year,  added  with  a  smile  : 

"We  shall  see  you  again,  I  have  a  firm  conviction 
of  that.  You  will  come  back  to  us  from  Tourcoing, 
monsieur  I'abbe." 

Abbe  Lantaigne  had  replied: 

"Monsieur  le  president  with  no  intention  of  an- 
ticipating any  honour,  I  yet  shall  shirk  no  duty." 

He  yearned  and  longed  for  the  see  of  the  la- 
mented Monseigneur  Duclou.  But  this  priest, 
whose  ambition  was  frozen  by  his  pride,  was  wait- 
ing until  they  came  to  bring  him  the  mitre. 

One  morning  M.  Lerond  came  to  see  him  at  the 
seminary,  and  brought  news  of  how  Abbe  Guitrel's 
candidature  was  progressing  at  the  Ministry  of 
Public  Worship.  It  was  suspected  that  M.  le  prefet 
Worms-Clavelin  was  working  hard  in   favour  of 


40      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

M.  Guitrel  in  the  offices  of  the  Ministry,  where  all 
the  freemasons  had  already  received  their  orders. 
This  was  what  he  had  been  told  at  the  offices  of  le 
Liberal,  the  religious  and  moderate  paper  of  the 
district.  With  regard  to  the  intentions  of  the 
Cardinal-Archbishop,  nothing  was  known. 

The  truth  was  that  Monseigneur  Chariot  dared 
neither  oppose  nor  support  any  candidate.  His 
characteristic  caution  had  been  growing  on  him  for 
years.  If  he  had  any  preferences  he  let  no  one 
guess  them.  For  a  long  time  he  had  been  comfort- 
ably and  pleasurably  concealing  his  policy,  just  as  he 
played  his  game  of  bezique  every  evening  with  M. 
de  Goulet.  And,  in  fact,  the  promotion  of  a  priest 
of  his  diocese  to  a  non-suffragan  bishopric  was  in  no 
way  an  affair  of  his.  But  he  was  forced  to  take  part 
in  this  intrigue.  M.  Worms-Clavelin,  the  prefet, 
whom  he  did  not  wish  to  offend,  had  caused  him  to 
be  sounded.  His  Eminence  could  not  be  ignorant 
of  the  shrewd  and  urbane  disposition  of  which  M. 
Guitrel  had  given  plain  proofs  in  the  diocese.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  believed  this  Guitrel  to  be  capable 
of  anything.  "Who  knows,"  thought  he,  "whether 
he  is  not  scheming  to  get  himself  appointed  here  as 
my  coadjutor,  instead  of  going  to  that  gloomy  little 
metropolis  of  Northern  Gaul?  And  if  I  declare 
him  worthy  of  a  bishopric,  will  it  not  be  believed 
that  I  intend  him  to  share  my  see?"  This  appre- 
hension that  he  would  be  given  a  coadjutor  embit- 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      41 

tered  Monseigneur  Chariot's  old  age.  In  Abbe 
Lantaigne's  case  he  had  strong  reasons  for  being 
silent  and  holding  aloof.  He  would  not  have  sup- 
ported this  priest's  candidature  for  the  simple 
reason  that  he  foresaw  its  failure..  Monseigneur 
Chariot  never  willingly  put  himself  on  the  losing 
side.  Moreover,  he  loathed  the  principal  of  the 
high  seminary.  Yet  this  hatred,  in  a  mind  so 
easy-going  and  kindly  as  Monseigneur's  was  not 
actually  prejudicial  to  M.  Lantaigne's  ambitions. 
In  order  to  get  rid  of  him,  Monseigneur  Chariot 
would  have  consented  to  his  becoming  either 
bishop  or  Pope.  M.  Lantaigne  had  a  high 
reputation  for  piety,  learning,  and  eloquence: 
one  could  not,  without  a  certain  shamelessness,  be 
openly  against  him.  Now  Monseigneur  Chariot 
being  popular  and  very  keen  to  gain  every  one's 
goodwill,  did  not  despise  the  opinion  of  honourable 
men. 

M.  Lerond  was  unable  to  follow  the  secret 
thoughts  of  Monseigneur,  but  he  knew  that  the 
Archbishop  had  not  yet  committed  himself.  He 
judged  that  it  might  be  possible  to  bring  influence 
to  bear  on  the  old  man's  mind  and  that  an  appeal 
to  his  pastoral  instincts  might  not  be  in  vain.  He 
urged  M.  Lantaigne  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  Arch- 
bishop's palace. 

"You  will  beg  His  Eminence,  with  filial  defer- 
ence, for  advice  in  the  probable  event  of  the  bishop- 


42       THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

ric  of  Tourcoing  being  offered  to  you.  It  Is  the 
right  step,  and  it  will  produce  an  excellent  effect." 

M.  Lantaigne  objected: 

"It  behoves  me  to  wait  for  a  more  solemn  call." 

"What  call  could  be  more  solemn  than  the 
suffrages  of  so  many  zealous  Christians,  who  hail 
your  name  with  a  unanimity  that  recalls  the  ancient 
popular  acclamations  with  which  a  Medard  and  a 
Remi  were  greeted?" 

"But,  monsieur,"  answered  honest  Lantaigne, 
"those  acclamations,  in  the  obsolete  custom  to 
which  you  refer,  came  from  the  faithful  of  the 
diocese  which  these  holy  men  were  called  upon  to 
govern.  And  I  am  not  aware  that  the  Catholics  of 
Tourcoing  have  acclaimed  me." 

At  this  point  lawyer  Lerond  said  what  had  to  be 
said: 

"If  you  do  not  bar  the  road  for  him,  M.  Guitrel 
will  become  a  bishop." 

The  next  day  M.  Lantaigne  had  fastened  over 
his  shoulders  his  visiting  cloak,  the  turned-back 
wing  of  which  flapped  on  his  sturdy  back,  the  while 
on  the  road  to  the  Archbishop's  palace  he  besought 
his  God  to  spare  the  Church  of  France  an  unmerited 
disgrace. 

His  Eminence,  at  the  moment  when  M.  Lan- 
taigne bowed  before  him,  had  just  received  a  letter 
from  the  nunciature  asking  him  for  a  confidential 
note  about  M.  Guitrel.     The  nuncio  made  no  secret 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       43 

of  his  liking  for  a  priest  reputed  to  be  intelligent 
and  zealous  and  capable  of  being  useful  in  negotia- 
tions with  the  temporal  power.  His  Eminence  had 
immediately  dictated  to  M.  de  Goulet  a  note  in 
favour  of  the  nuncio's  protege. 

He  exclaimed  in  his  pleasant  tremulous  voice: 

"Monsieur  Lantaigne,  how  glad  I  am  to  see 
you!" 

"Monseigneur,  I  have  come  to  ask  Your  Emi- 
nence for  your  paternal  counsel  in  case  the  Holy 
Father,  regarding  me  with  favour,  should  nominate 
me  ..." 

"Very  happy  to  see  you.  Monsieur  Lantaigne. 
You  come  just  in  the  nick  of  time !" 

"I  would  venture,  if  Your  Eminence  did  not 
deem  me  unworthy  of  .  .  ." 

"You  are,  Monsieur  Lantaigne,  an  eminent  theo- 
logian and  a  priest  of  the  highest  possible  learning 
in  the  canon  law.  You  are  an  authority  on  knotty 
points  of  discipline.  Your  advice  is  precious  on 
questions  of  the  liturgy  and,  in  general,  on  any 
point  that  concerns  religion.  If  you  had  not  come, 
I  was  going  to  send  for  you,  as  M.  de  Goulet  can 
tell  you.  At  the  present  moment  I  am  in  great 
need  of  your  insight." 

And  Monseigneur,  with  his  gouty"  hand,  well 
practised  in  benediction,  waved  the  principal  of  the 
high  seminary  to  a  seat. 

"Monsieur  Lantaigne,  be  kind  enough  to  listen 


44      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

to  me.  The  venerable  M.  Laprune,  the  cure  of 
Salnt-Exupere,  is  just  gone  from  here.  I  must  tell 
you  that  this  poor  cure  has  this  morning  found  a 
man  hanged  in  his  church.  Just  conceive  his  dis- 
tress !  He  is  beside  himself.  And  in  such  a  crisis, 
I  myself  need  to  take  the  advice  of  the  most  learned 
priest  in  my  diocese.  What  ought  we  to  do?  Tell 
mel" 

M.  Lantaigne  collected  himself  for  a  moment. 
Then,  in  the  tone  of  a  pedagogue,  he  began  to  ex- 
pound the  traditions  concerning  the  purification  of 
churches : 

"The  Maccabees,  after  having  washed  the  temple 
profaned  by  Antiochus  Epiphanes,  in  the  year  164 
before  the  Incarnation,  celebrated  its  dedication. 
That  is  the  origin,  Monseigneur,  of  the  festival 
called  Hanicha — that  is  to  say,  renewal.  In 
fact  .  .  ." 

And  he  developed  his  ideas. 

Monseigneur  listened  with  an  air  of  admiration, 
and  M.  Lantaigne  drew  up  from  his  inexhaustible 
memory  endless  texts  relating  to  the  ceremonies  of 
purification,  precedents,   arguments,  commentaries. 

"John,  Chapter  X.,  verse  22  .  .  .  the  Roman 
Pontifical  .  .  .  the  Venerable  Bede,  Baron- 
ius  .  .  ." 

He  spoke  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour. 

After  this  the  Cardinal-Archbishop  replied: 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      45 

"It  should  be  noted  that  the  hanged  man  was 
found  in  the  porch  of  the  side  door,  on  the  epistle 
side." 

"Was  the  inner  door  of  the  porch  closed?"  asked 
M.  Lantaigne. 

"Alas!  alas!"  answered  Monseigneur,  "it  was 
not  wide  open  .  .  .  but  neither  was  it  completely 
shut." 

"Ajar,  Monseigneur?" 

"That's  it!     Ajar." 

"And  the  suicide,  Monseigneur,  was  within  the 
space  covered  by  the  porch?  That  is  a  point  which 
it  is  materially  important  to  ascertain.  Your  Emi- 
nence perceives  the  whole  importance  of  that?" 

"Assuredly,  Monsieur  Lantaigne.  .  .  .  Mon- 
sieur de  Goulet,  was  there  not  one  arm  of  the 
hanged  man  which  projected  from  the  porch  and 
jutted  into  the  church?" 

M.  de  Goulet  replied  with  a  blush  and  some  in- 
coherent syllables. 

"I  feel  certain,"  replied  Monseigneur,  "that  the 
arm  went  beyond,  or,  at  any  rate,  part  of  the  arm." 

M.  Lantaigne  concluded  from  this  that  the 
church  of  Saint-Exupere  was  profaned.  He  quoted 
precedents  and  described  the  proceedings  after  the 
dastardly  assassination  of  the  Archbishop  of  Paris, 
in  the  church  of  Saint-Etienne-du-Mont.  He 
travelled  up  the  ages,  passed  through  the  Reyolu- 


46      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

tion,  when  the  churches  were  transformed  into 
armouries,  referred  to  Thomas  Becket  and  the 
impious  Heliodorus. 

"What  scholarship!  What  sound  doctrine  1" 
said  Monseigneur. 

He  rose  and  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the  priest 
to  kiss. 

"It  is  a  priceless  service  that  you  have  rendered 
me,  Monsieur  Lantaigne;  be  assured  that  I  have  a 
great  esteem  for  your  scholarship  and  accept  my 
pastoral  benediction.     Farewell." 

And  M.  Lantaigne,  dismissed,  perceived  that  he 
had  not  been  able  to  say  a  single  word  about  the 
important  business  on  which  he  had  come.  But, 
with  the  echoes  of  his  own  words  all  around  him, 
full  of  his  learning  and  his  application  of  it,  and 
much  flattered,  he  descended  the  grand  staircase 
still  turning  over  in  his  own  mind  the  matter  of  the 
suicide  of  Saint-Exupere  and  the  urgent  need  for 
the  purification  of  the  parish  church.  Outside  he 
was  still  thinking  of  it. 

As  he  was  descending  the  winding  street  of  the 
Tintelleries,  he  met  the  cure  of  Saint-Exupere,  the 
venerable  M.  Laprune,  who,  standing  in  front  of 
cooper  Lenfant's  shop,  was  examining  the  corks. 

His  wine  had  been  turning  sour,  and  this  deterio- 
ration he  attributed  to  the  defective  way  in  which 
his  bottles  were  corked. 

"It  is  deplorable,"  he  murmured,  "deplorable  I" 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       47 

"And  your  suicide?"  demanded  Abbe  Lantaigne. 

At  this  question  the  worthy  cure  of  Saint- 
Exupere  opened  his  full,  round  eyes  and  asked  in 
astonishment: 

"What  suicide?" 

"The  man  who  hanged  himself  in  Saint-Exupere, 
the  miserable  suicide  whom  you  found  this  morning 
in  the  porch  of  your  church." 

M.  Laprune,  terrified,  wondering  from  what  he 
had  just  heard,  whether  he  or  M.  Lantaigne  had 
gone  mad,  replied  that  he  had  found  no  one  hanged. 

"What!"  replied  M.  Lantaigne,  surprised  in  his 
turn,  "wasn't  a  man  found  this  morning  hanged  in 
the  porch  of  a  door  on  the  epistle  side  1" 

In  sign  of  denial,  the  vicar  twice  revolved  on  his 
shoulders  a  face  whereon  shone  the  sacred  truth. 

Abbe  Lantaigne  now  looked  like  a  man  taken 
with  giddiness: 

"But  it  was  the  Cardinal-Archbishop  who  has 
just  told  me  himself  that  you  found  a  man  hanged 
in  your  church!" 

"Oh!"  replied  M.  Laprune,  suddenly  reassured, 
"Monseigneur  wanted  to  amuse  himself.  He  loves 
a  jest.  He  is  a  capital  hand  at  it,  and  knows  how 
to  keep  within  the  bounds  of  seemliness.  He  has 
so  much  wit!" 

But  Abbe  Lantaigne,  rising  heavenwards  his 
fiery,  sombre  glance,  exclaimed: 

"The  Archbishop  has  deceived  me!     This  man 


48      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

will,  then,  never  speak  the  truth,  save  when  on  the 
steps  of  the  altar,  taking  the  consecrated  host  in 
his  hands,  he  pronounces  the  words:  Dom'tne,  non 
sum  digitus/'* 


VI 


OW  that  he  was  no  longer  inclined 
to  the  saddle  and  liked  to  keep  his 
room,  General  Cartier  de  Chalmot 
had  reduced  his  division  to  cards  in 
S'mall  cardboard  boxes,  which  he 
placed  every  morning  on  his  desk,  and  which  he 
arranged  every  evening  on  the  white  deal  shelves 
above  his  iron  bedstead.  He  marshalled  his  cards 
day  by  day  with  scrupulous  exactitude,  in  an  order 
which  filled  him  with  satisfaction.  Every  card  rep- 
resented a  man.  The  symbol  by  which  he  hence- 
forth thought  of  his  officers,  non-commissioned 
officers  and  men,  satisfied  his  craving  for  method 
and  suited  his  natural  bent  of  mind.  Cartier  de 
Chalmot  had  always  been  noted  as  an  excellent 
officer.  General  Parroy,  under  whom  he  had 
served,  said  of  him:  "In  Captain  de  Chalmot  the 
capacity  for  obedience  is  exactly  balanced  by  the 
power  of  command.  A  rare  and  priceless  quality 
of  the  true  military  spirit." 

Cartier  de  Chalmot  had  always  been  scrupulous 
in  the  performance  of  his  duty.  Being  upright, 
diffident,  and  an  excellent  penman,  he  had  at  last 
hit  upon  a  system  which  fitted  in  with  his  abilities, 

49 


so       THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

and,  in  command  of  his  division  of  cards,  he  applied 
his  method  with  the  utmost  vigour. 

On  this  particular  day,  having  risen  according  to 
his  custom  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  had 
passed  from  his  tub  to  his  work-table;  and,  whilst 
the  sun  was  mounting  with  solemn  slowness  above 
the  elms  of  the  Archbishop's  palace,  the  general 
was  organising  manoeuvres  by  manipulating  the 
boxes  of  cards  that  symbolised  reality,  and  that  were 
actually  identical  with  reality  to  an  intelligence 
which,  like  his,  was  excessively  reverent  towards 
everything  symbolic. 

For  more  than  three  hours  he  had  been  poring 
over  his  cards  with  a  mind  and  face  as  wan  and 
melancholy  as  the  cards  themselves,  when  his 
servant  announced  the  Abbe  de  Lalonde.  Then  he 
took  off  his  glasses,  wiped  his  work-reddened  eyes, 
rose,  and  half  smiling,  turned  towards  the  door  a 
countenance  which  had  once  been  handsome  and 
which  in  old  age  remained  quite  simple  in  its  linea- 
ments. He  stretched  out  to  the  visitor  who 
entered  a  large  hand  the  palm  of  which  had  scarcely 
any  lines,  and  said  good-day  to  the  priest  in  a  gruff, 
yet  hesitating  voice,  which  revealed  at  the  same 
time  the  diffidence  of  the  man  and  the  infallibility 
of  the  commander. 

"My  dear  abbe,  how  are  you?  I  am  very  glad 
to  see  you." 

And  he  pushed  forward  to  him  one  of  the  two 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       51 

horsehair  chairs  which,  with  the  desk  and  the  bed, 
comprised  all  the  furniture  of  this  clean,  bright, 
empty  room. 

The  abbe  sat  down.  He  was  a  wonderfully 
active  little  old  man.  In  his  face  of  weather-worn, 
crumbling  brick,  there  were  set,  like  two  jewels,  the 
blue  eyes  of  a  child. 

They  looked  at  one  another  for  a  moment,  under- 
standing, without  saying  a  word.  They  were  two 
old  friends,  two  comrades-in-arms.  Formerly  a 
chaplain  in  the  Army,  Abbe  de  Lalonde  was 
now  chaplain  to  the  Dames  du  Salut.  As  military 
chaplain  he  had  been  attached  to  the  regiment  of 
guards  of  which  Cartier  de  Chalmot  had  been 
colonel  in  1870,  and  which,  forming  part  of  the 
division  .  .  .,  had  been  shut  up  in  Metz  with 
Bazaine's  army. 

The  memory  of  these  homeric,  yet  lamentable, 
weeks  came  back  to  the  minds  of  these  two  friends 
every  time  they  saw  one  another,  and  every  time 
they  made  the  same  remarks. 

This  time  the  chaplain  began : 

"Do  you  remember,  general,  when  we  were  in 
Metz,  running  short  of  medicine,  of  fodder,  running 
short  of  salt?  .  .  ." 

Abbe  Lalonde  was  the  least  sensual  of 
men.  He  had  hardly  felt  the  want  of  salt  for  him- 
self, but  he  had  suffered  much  at  not  being  able  to 
give  the  men  salt  as  he  gave  them  tobacco,  in  little 


52       THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

packets   carefully   wrapped   up.     And   he    remem- 
bered this  cruel  privation. 

"Ah!  general,  the  salt  ran  short!" 
General  Carrier  de  Chalmot  replied: 
"They  made  up  for  it,  to  a  certain  extent,  by 
mixing  gunpowder  with  the  food." 

"All  the  same,"  answered  the  chaplain,  "war  is  a 
terrible  thing." 

Thus  spoke  this  innocent  friend  of  soldiers  in  the 
sincerity  of  his  heart.  But  the  general  did  not 
acquiesce  in  this  condemnation  of  war. 

"Pardon  me,  my  dear  abbe !  War  is,  of  course, 
a  cruel  necessity,  but  one  which  provides  for  officers 
and  men  an  opportunity  of  showing  the  highest 
qualities.  Without  war,  we  should  still  be  ignorant 
of  how  far  the  courage  and  endurance  of  men  can 

go- 

And,  very  seriously,  he  added : 

"The  Bible  proves  the  lawfulness  of  war,  and  you 
know  better  than  I  how  in  it  God  is  called  Sabaoth 
— that  is,  the  God  of  armies." 

The  abbe  smiled  with  an  expression  of  frank 
roguishness,  displaying  the  three  very  white  teeth 
which  were  all  that  remained  to  him. 

"Pooh!  I  don't  know  Hebrew,  not  L  .  .  . 
And  God  has  so  many  more  beautiful  names  that  I 
can  dispense  with  calling  him  by  that  one.  .  .  . 
Alas !  general,  what  a  splendid  army  perished  under 
the  command  of  that  unhappy  marshal!  .  .  ," 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      53 

At  these  words,  General  Cartier  de  Chalmot 
began  to  say  what  he  had  already  said  a  hundred 
times : 

"Bazainel  .  .  .  Listen  to  me.  Neglect  of  the 
regulations  touching  fortified  towns,  culpable  hesi- 
tation in  giving  orders,  mental  reservations  before 
the  enemy.  And  before  the  enemy  one  ought  to 
have  no  mental  reservations.  .  .  .  Capitulation  in 
open  country.  .  .  .  He  deserved  his  fate.  And 
then  a  scapegoat  was  needed." 

"For  my  part,"  answered  the  chaplain,  "I  should 
beware  of  ever  saying  a  single  word  which  might 
injure  the  memory  of  this  unfortunate  marshal. 
I  cannot  judge  his  actions.  And  it  is  certainly  not 
my  business  to  noise  abroad  even  his  indubitable 
shortcomings.  For  he  granted  me  a  favour  for 
which  I  shall  feel  grateful  as  long  as  I  live." 

"A  favour?"  demanded  the  general.  "He? 
To  you?" 

"Oh!  a  favour  so  noble,  so  beautiful!  He 
granted  me  a  pardon  for  a  poor  soldier,  a  dragoon 
condemned  to  death  for  insubordination.  In 
memory  of  this  favour,  every  year  I  say  a  mass  for 
the  repose  of  the  soul  of  ex-Marshal  Bazaine." 

But  General  Cartier  de  Chalmot  would  not  let 
himself  be  turned  from  the  point. 

"Capitulation  in  open  country!  .  .  .  Just  imag- 
ine it.  .  .  .  He  deserved  his  fate." 

And,  in  order  to  hearten  himself  up,  the  general 


54      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

spoke  of  Canrobert,  and  of  the  splendid  stand  of 
the  .  .  .  brigade  of  Saint-Privat. 

And  the  chaplain  related  anecdotes  of  a  diverting 
kind,  with  an  edifying  climax. 

"Ah,  Saint-Privat,  general!  On  the  eve  of  the 
battle,  a  great  rascal  of  a  carabineer  came  to  look 
for  me.  I  see  him  still,  all  blackened,  in  a  sheep- 
skin. He  cries  to  me :  'To-morrow's  going  to  be 
warm  work.  I  may  leave  my  bones  to  rot  there. 
Confess  me,  monsieur  le  cure,  and  quickly!  I  must 
go  and  groom  my  little  mare.'  I  say  to  him:  'I 
don't  want  to  delay  you,  friend.  Still,  you  must 
tell  me  your  sins.  What  are  your  sins?'  In  aston- 
ishment he  looks  at  me  and  replies:  'Why,  all!' 
'What,  all?'  'Yes,  all.  I  have  committed  all  the 
sins.'  I  shake  my  head.  'AH,  my  friend — that  is 
a  good  many!  .  .  .  Tell  me,  hast  thou  beaten  thy 
mother?'  At  this  question,  my  gentleman  grows 
excited,  waves  his  great  arms,  swears  like  a  Pagan, 
and  exclaims :  'Monsieur  le  cure,  you  are  mocking 
me!'  I  reply  to  him:  'Calm  yourself,  friend. 
You  see  now  that  you  have  not  committed  all  the 
sms.    .  .  . 

Thus  the  chaplain  cheerily  narrated  pious  regi- 
mental anecdotes.  And  then  he  deduced  the 
moral  from  them.  Good  Christians  make  good 
soldiers.  It  was  a  mistake  to  banish  religion  from 
the  Army. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       55 

General  Cartier  de  Chalmot  approved  of  these 
maxims. 

"I  have  always  said  so,  my  dear  abbe.  In  de- 
stroying mystical  beliefs  you  ruin  the  military  spirit. 
By  what  right  do  you  exact  of  a  man  the  sacrifice 
of  his  life  if  you  take  away  from  him  the  hope  of 
another  existence?" 

And  the  chaplain  answered,  with  a  smile  full  of 
kindliness,   innocence  and  joy: 

"You  will  see  that  there  will  be  a  return  to 
religion.  They  are  already  going  back  to  it  on  all 
sides.  Men  are  not  as  bad  as  they  appear  and  God 
is  infinitely  good." 

Then  at  last  he  revealed  the  object  of  his  visit. 

"I  come,  general,  to  ask  a  great  favour  of 
you." 

General  Cartier  de  Chalmot  became  attentive; 
his  face,  already  sad,  grew  sadder  still.  He  loved 
and  respected  this  old  chaplain,  and  would  have 
wished  to  give  him  pleasure.  But  the  very  idea  of 
granting  a  favour  was  alarming  to  his  strict  upright- 
ness. 

"Yes,  general,  I  come  to  ask  you  to  work  for  the 
good  of  the  Church.  You  know  Abbe  Lantaigne, 
head  of  the  high  seminary  in  our  town.  He  is  a 
priest  renowned  for  his  piety  and  learning,  a  great 
theologian." 

"I  have  met  Abbe  Lantaigne  several  times.     He 


56      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

made  a  favourable  impression  on  me.     But  .  .  ." 

"Oh  I  general,  if  you  had  heard  his  lectures  as  I 
have  done,  you  would  be  amazed  at  his  learning. 
Yet  I  was  able  to  appreciate  but  a  trifling  part  of  it. 
Thirty  years  of  my  life  I  have  spent  in  reminding 
poor  soldiers  stretched  on  a  hospital  bed  of  the 
goodness  of  God.  I  have  slipped  in  a  good  word 
along  with  a  screw  of  tobacco.  For  another 
twenty-five  years  I  have  been  confessing  holy 
maidens,  full  of  sanctity,  of  course,  but  less  charm- 
ing in  character  than  were  my  soldiers.  I  have 
never  had  the  time  to  read  the  Fathers;  I  have 
neither  enough  brain  nor  enough  theology  to  ap- 
preciate M.  I'abbe  Lantaigne  at  his  true  worth,  for 
he  is  a  walking  encyclopedia.  But  at  least  T  can 
assure  you,  general,  that  he  speaks  as  he  acts,  and 
he  acts  as  he  speaks." 

And  the  old  chaplain,  winking  his  eye  roguishly, 
added : 

"All  ecclesiastics,  unfortunately,  are  not  of  this 
kind." 

"Nor  are  all  soldiers,"  said  the  general,  smiling  a 
very  wan  smile. 

And  the  two  men  exchanged  a  sympathetic  glance, 
in  their  common  hatred  of  intrigue  and  falsity. 

Abbe  de  Lalonde,  who  was,  however,  capable  of 
a  little  guile,  wound  up  his  eulogy  of  Abbe  Lan- 
taigne with  this  touch: 

"He's  an  excellent  priest,  and  if  he  had  been  a 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      57 

soldier  he  would  have  made  an  excellent  soldier." 

But  the  general  demanded  brusquely: 

"Weill  what  can  I  do  for  him?" 

"Help  him  to  slip  on  the  violet  stockings,  which 
he  has  richly  deserved,  general.  He  is  an  admitted 
candidate  for  the  vacant  bishopric  of  Tourcoing. 
I  beg  you  to  support  him  with  the  Minister  of 
Justice  and  Religion,  whom,  I  am  told,  you  know 
personally." 

The  general  shook  his  head.  In  fact,  he  had 
never  asked  anything  of  the  Government.  Cartier 
de  Chalmot,  as  a  royalist  and  a  Christian,  regarded 
the  Republic  with  a  disapproval  that  was  complete, 
silent  and  whole-hearted.  Reading  no  newspapers 
and  talking  with  no  one,  he  undervalued  on  principle 
a  civil  power  on  whose  doings  he  knew  nothing. 
He  obeyed  and  held  his  tongue.  He  was  admired 
in  the  chateaux  of  the  neighbourhood  for  his  melan- 
choly resignation,  inspired  by  the  sentiment  of  duty, 
strengthened  by  a  profound  scorn  for  everything 
which  was  not  military,  intensified  by  a  growing 
difficulty  in  thought  and  speech  rendered  obvious 
and  affecting  by  the  progress  of  an  affection  of  the 
liver. 

It  was  well  known  that  General  Cartier  de 
Chalmot  remained  a  faithful  royalist  in  the  depths 
of  his  heart.  It  was  not  so  well  known  that  one 
day  in  the  year  1893  his  heart  had  received  one  of 
those  shocks  which  can  only  be  compared  with  what 


58      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

Christians  describe  as  the  workings  of  grace,  and 
which  bring  with  the  force  of  a  thunderbolt  deep 
and  unlooked-for  peace  to  a  man's  innermost  being. 
This  event  took  place  at  five  o'clock  in  the  evening 
of  the  4th  of  June  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  the 
prefecture.  There,  among  the  flowers  that 
Madame  Worms-Clavelin  had  herself  arranged, 
President  Carnot,  on  his  way  through  the  town,  had 
received  the  officers  of  the  garrison.  General 
Cartier  de  Chalmot,  being  present  with  his  staff, 
saw  the  President  for  the  first  time,  and  instantly, 
for  no  apparent  reason,  on  no  explicable  grounds, 
was  pierced  through  and  through  by  a  terrible  ad- 
miration. In  a  second,  before  the  gentle  gravity 
and  honest  inflexibility  of  the  head  of  the  State,  all 
his  prejudices  fell  away.  He  forgot  that  this 
sovereign  was  a  civilian.  He  revered  and  loved 
him.  He  suddenly  felt  himself  bound  with  ties  of 
sympathy  and  respect  to  this  man,  sad  and  sallow 
like  himself,  but  august  and  serene  like  a  ruler.  He 
uttered  with  a  soldierly  stutter  the  official  compli- 
ment which  he  had  learnt  by  heart.  The  President 
answered  him:  "I  thank  you  in  the  name  of  the 
Republic  and  of  our  country  which  you  loyally 
serve."  At  this,  all  the  devotion  to  an  absent 
prince  which  General  Cartier  de  Chalmot  had 
stored  up  for  twenty-five  years  welled  forth  from 
his  heart  towards  the  President,  whose  quiet  face 
remained  surprisingly  immobile,  and  who  spoke  in 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       59 

a  melancholy  voice  with  no  movement  of  cheek  or 
lips,  on  which  his  black  beard  set  a  seal.  On  this 
waxen  face,  in  these  slow,  honest  eyes,  on  this  feeble 
breast,  across  which  blazed  the  broad  red  ribbon 
of  his  order,  in  the  whole  figure  of  this  suffering 
automaton,  the  general  perceived  both  the  dignity 
of  the  leader,  and  the  affliction  of  the  ill-fated  man 
who  has  never  laughed.  With  his  admiration  there 
was  mingled  a  strain  of  tenderness. 

A  year  later  he  heard  of  the  tragic  end  of  this 
■President  for  whose  safety  he  would  willingly  have 
died,  and  whom  he  henceforth  pictured  in  his 
thoughts  as  dark  and  stiff,  like  the  flag  rolled  round 
its  staff  in  the  barracks  and  covered  with  its  case. 

From  that  time  he  had  ignored  the  civil  rulers 
of  France.  He  cared  to  know  nothing  save  of  his 
military  superiors,  whom  he  obeyed  with  melan- 
choly punctiliousness.  Pained  at  the  idea  of 
answering  the  venerable  Abbe  de  Lalonde  by  a 
refusal,  he  bethought  himself  for  a  moment,  and 
then  gave  his  reasons. 

"A  matter  of  principle.  I  never  ask  anything  of 
the  government.  You  agree  with  me,  don't  you? 
.  .  .  For  from  the  moment  that  one  lays  down  a 
rule  for  oneself  .  .  ." 

The  chaplain  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of 
sadness  that  seemed  as  though  thrown  over  his 
happy  old  face. 

"Oh!  how  could  I  agree  with  you,  general — I 


6o      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

who  beg  of  everybody?  I  am  a  hardened  beggar. 
For  God  and  the  poor,  I  have  pleaded  with  all  the 
powers  of  the  day,  with  King  Louis  Philippe's 
ministers,  with  those  of  the  provisional  government, 
with  Napoleon  IIL's  ministers,  with  those  of  the 
Ordre  Moral  and  those  of  the  present  Republic. 
They  have  all  helped  me  to  do  some  good.  i\nd 
since  you  know  the  Minister  of  Religion  .  .  ." 

At  this  moment  a  shrill  voice  called  in  the 
passage:     "Poulot!     Poulot!" 

And  a  stout  lady  in  a  morning  wrapper,  her 
white  hair  crowned  with  hair-curlers,  entered  the 
room  with  a  rush.  It  was  Madame  Cartier  de 
Chalmot,  who  was  calling  the  general  to  dejeuner. 

She  had  already  shaken  her  husband  with  im- 
perious tenderness,  and  exclaimed  once  more: 
"Poulot !"  before  she  became  aware  of  the  presence 
of  the  old  priest  crushed  up  against  the  door. 

She  apologised  for  her  untidy  dress.  She  had 
had  so  much  to  do  this  morning!  Three  daughters, 
two  sons,  an  orphan  nephew  and  her  husband — 
seven  children  to  look  after  1 

**Ah!  madame,"  said  the  abbe,  "it  is  God  him- 
self who  has  sent  you!  You  will  be  my  provi- 
dence." 

"Your  providence,  monsieur  I'abbe  1" 

In  her  grey  dressing-gown  her  figure  revealed 
the  ample  dignity  of  classic  motherhood.  On  her 
beaming  moustachioed  face  shone  a  matronly  pride ; 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      6i 

her  large  gestures  expressed  at  once  the  briskness 
of  a  housewife  habituated  to  work  and  the  ease  of 
a  woman  accustomed  to  official  deference.  The 
general  disappeared  behind  her.  She  was  his 
household  goddess  and  his  guardian  angel,  this 
Pauline  who  carried  on  ^er  brave,  energetic 
shoulders  all  the  burden  of  this  poverty-stricken, 
ostentatious  house,  who  played  the  part  of  seam- 
stress to  the  family,  as  well  as  cook,  dressmaker, 
chambermaid,  governess,  apothecary,  and  even 
milliner  with  a  frankly  gaudy  taste,  and  yet  showed 
at  big  dinners  and  receptions  an  imperturbable  good 
breeding,  a  commanding  profile,  and  shoulders  that 
were  still  beautiful.  It  was  commonly  said  in  the 
division  that  if  the  general  became  Minister  of 
War,  his  wife  would  do  the  honours  of  the  hotel  in 
the  Boulevard  Saint-Germain*  in  capital  fashion. 

The  energy  of  the  general's  wife  spread  freely 
over  into  the  outer  world  and  flourished  vigorously 
in  pious  and  charitable  works.  Madame  Cartier 
de  Chalmot  was  lady  patroness  of  three  creches  and 
a  dozen  charities  recommended  by  the  Cardinal- 
Archbishop.  Monseigneur  Chariot  showed  a 
special  predilection  for  this  lady,  and  said  to  her 
sometimes,  with  his  man-of-the-world  smile :  "You 
are  a  general  in  the  army  of  Christian  charity." 
And,*being  a  professor  of  orthodoxy,  Monseigneur 
Chariot  never  failed  to  add:     "And  there  is  no 

•Where  the  French  War  Office  is  situated. 


62      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

charity  outside  the  Christian  charity;  for  the 
Church  alone  is  in  a  position  to  solve  the  social 
problems  whose  difficulties  perplex  the  minds  of  all 
and  cause  special  anxiety  to  our  paternal  heart." 

This  was  just  what  Madame  Cartier  de  Chalmot 
thought.  She  was  lavishly,  glaringly  pious,  and  not 
free  from  the  rather  loud  magnificence  that  was 
aptly  accented  by  the  sound  of  her  voice  and  the 
flowers  in  her  hats.  Her  faith,  voluminous  and 
decorative  like  the  bosom  which  enshrined  it,  made 
a  splendid  show  in  drawing-rooms.  By  the  breadth 
of  her  religious  sentiments  she  had  done  much  harm 
to  her  husband.  But  neither  of  them  paid  any.  heed 
to  this.  The  general  also  believed  in  the  Christian 
creed,  although  this  would  not  have  prevented  him 
from  having  the  Cardinal-Archbishop  arrested  on  a 
written  order  from  the  Minister  of  War.  Yet  he 
was  regarded  with  suspicion  by  the  democracy. 
And  the  prefet,  M.  Worms-Clavelin  himself, 
though  little  of  a  fanatic,  regarded  General  Cartier 
de  Chalmot  as  a  dangerous  man.  This  was  his 
wife's  fault.  She  was  ambitious,  but  the  soul  of 
honour  and  incapable  of  betraying  her  God. 

"How  can  I  be  your  providence,  monsieur 
I'abbe?" 

And  when  she  heard  that  the  point  at  Issue  was 
the  raising  to  the  bishopric  of  Tourcoing  of  Abbe. 
Lantaigne,  a  man  of  such  noble,  steadfast  piety,  she 
caught  fire  and  showed  her  courage. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      63 

"Those  are  the  bishops  we  want.  M.  Lantaigne 
ought  to  be  nominated." 

The  old  chaplain  began  to  make  use  of  this  happy 
valiancy. 

"Then,  madame,  induce  the  general  to  write  to 
the  Minister  of  Religion,  who  turns  out  to  be  his 
friend." 

She  shook  the  crown  of  curlers  on  her  head 
vigorously. 

"No,  monsieur  I'abbe.  My  husband  will  not 
write.  It  is  useless  to  persist.  He  thinks  that  a 
soldier  ought  never  to  ask  for  anything.  He  is 
right.  My  father  was  of  this  opinion.  You  knew 
him,  monsieur  I'abbe,  and  you  know  that  he  was  a 
fine  man  and  a  good  soldier." 

The  old  Army  chaplain  smote  his  forehead. 

"Colonel  de  Balnyl  Yes,  of  course,  I  knew  him. 
He  was  a  hero  and  a  Christian." 

General  Cartier  de  Chalmot  interposed: 

"My  father-in-law,  Colonel  de  Balny,  was  chiefly 
commendable  for  having  mastered  in  their  entirety 
the  regulations  of  1829  on  cavalry  manoeuvres. 
These  regulations  were  so  complicated  that  few 
officers  mastered  them  in  their  completeness. 
They  were  afterwards  withdrawn,  and  Colonel  de 
Balny  conceived  such  a  disgust  at  this  that  it 
hastened  his  end.  New  regulations  were  imposed, 
possessing  the  unquestionable  advantage  of  simpli- 
fication.    Yet  I  question  whether  the  old  state  of 


.64      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

things  was  not  preferable.  You  must  exact  much 
from  a  cavalryman  in  order  to  get  a  little  out  of 
him.     It  is  the  same  with  the  foot-soldier." 

And  the  general  began  anxiously  to  manipulate 
his  division  of  cards  drawn  up  in  the  boxes. 

Madame  Cartier  de  Chalmot  had  heard  these 
same  words  very  often.  She  always  made  the  same 
reply  to  them.     Once  more  this  time  she  said: 

"PoulotI  how  can  you  say  that  papa  died  of 
chagrin,  when  he  fell  down  in  an  apoplectic  fit  at  a 
review?" 

The  old  chaplain,  by  a  crafty  wile,  brought  the 
conversation  back  to  the  subject  which  interested 
him. 

"Ah!  madame,  your  excellent  father,  Colonel  de 
Balny,  would  have  certainly  appreciated  the  charac- 
ter of  M.  Lantaigne,  and  he  would  have  offered  up 
prayers  that  this  priest  might  be  raised  to  a 
bishopric." 

"I  also,  monsieur  I'abbe,  will  offer  up  prayers 
for  that,"  answered  the  general's  wife.  "My 
husband  cannot,  ought  not  to  make  any  application. 
But  if  you  think  that  my  intervention  will  be  useful, 
I  will  drop  a  word  to  Monseigneur.  He  doesn't 
terrify  me  at  all,  our  Archbishop." 

"Doubtless  a  word  from  your  mouth  .  .  ." 
murmured  the  old  man.  ".  .  .  The  ear  of  Mon- 
seigneur Chariot  will  be  open  to  it." 

The  general's  wife  announced  that  sne  would  be 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      65 

seeing  the  Archbishop  at  the  inauguration  of  the 
Pain  de  Saint  Antoine,  of  which  she  was  president, 
and  that  there  .  .  . 

She  interrupted  herself: 

"The  cutlets!  .  .  .  Excuse  me,  monsieur 
rabbe  .  .  ." 

She  rushed  out  on  to  the  landing  and  shouted 
orders  to  the  cook  from  the  staircase.  Then  she 
reappeared  in  the  room. 

"And  there  I  shall  draw  him  aside,  and  beg  him 
to  speak  to  the  nuncio  in  favour  of  M.  Lantaigne. 
Is  that  the  right  way  to  go  to  work?" 

The  old  chaplain  made  as  if  to  take  her  hands, 
yet  without  actually  doing  so. 

"That's  just  the  way,  madame.  I  am  sure  that 
the  good  Saint  Anthony  of  Padua  will  be  with  you 
and  will  help  you  to  persuade  Monseigneur  Chariot. 
He  is  a  great  saint.  I  mean  Saint  Anthony.  .  .  . 
Ladies  ought  not  to  believe  that  he  devotes  himself 
exclusively  to  finding  the  jewels  which  they  have 
lost.  In  heaven  he  has  something  better  to  do. 
To  beg  him  for  bread  for  the  poor,  that  is  assur- 
edly far  worthier.  You  have  realised  that,  dear 
madame.  The  Pain  de  Saint  Antoine  is  a  fine 
work.  I  must  inform  myself  more  fully  about  it. 
But  I  shall  take  good  care  not  to  breathe  a  word  of 
it  to  my  good  sisters." 

He  was  referring  to  the  Dames  du  Salut,  to 
whom  he  was  chaplain. 


66      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

"They  have  already  too  many  undertakings. 
They  are  excellent  sisters,  but  too  much  absorbed  in 
trifling  duties,  and  far  too  petty,  the  poor  ladies." 

He  sighed,  recalling  the  time  when  he  was  a  regi- 
mental chaplain,  the  tragic  days  of  the  war,  when  he 
accompanied  the  wounded  stretched  out  on  an 
ambulance  litter  and  gave  them  a  drop  of  brandy. 
For  it  was  by  doles  of  tobacco  and  spirits  that  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  carrying  on  his  apostolic 
labours.  He  again  gave  way  to  his  love  of  talking 
about  the  fighting  round  Metz  and  told  some 
anecdotes.  He  had  several  concerning  a  certain 
sapper,  a  native  of  Lorraine  called  Larmoise,  a  man 
full  of  resources. 

"I  did  not  tell  you,  general,  how  this  great  devil 
of  a  sapper  used  to  bring  me  a  bag  of  potatoes 
every  morning.  One  day  I  asked  him  where  he 
picked  them  up.  Says  he:  'In  the  enemy's  lines.' 
'You  villain,'  I  say  to  him.  Thereupon  he  explains 
to  me  how  he  has  found  some  fellow-countrymen 
among  the  German  guards.  'Fellow-countrymen?' 
'Yes,  fellow-countrymen,  fellows  from  home.  We 
are  only  separated  by  the  frontier.  We  embraced 
one  another,  we  talked  about  our  relatives  and 
friends.  And  they  said  to  me :  "You  can  take  as 
many  potatoes  as  you  like."  '  " 

And  the  chaplain  added: 

"This  simple  incident  made  me  feel  better  than 
any  reasoning  how  cruel  and  unjust  war  is." 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      67 

"Yes,"  said  the  general,  "these  annoying  in- 
timacies occasionally  occur  at  the  points  of  contact 
of  two  armies.  They  must  be  sternly  repressed, 
having  due  regard,  of  course,  to  the  circumstances." 


VII 


[N  the  promenade  along  the  ramparts 
that  evening  Abbe  Lantaigne,  head 
of  the  high  seminary,  fell  in  with  M. 
Bergeret,  a  professor  of  literature 
who  was  considered  a  man  of  remark- 
able, but  eccentric  character.  M.  Lantaigne  for- 
gave him  his  scepticism  and  chatted  with  him 
willingly,  whenever  he  met  him  under  the  elm-trees 
on  the  Mall.  On  his  side,  M.  Bergeret  had  no  ob- 
jection to  studying  the  mind  of  an  intelligent  priest. 
They  both  knew  that  their  conversations  on  a  seat 
in  the  promenade  were  equally  displeasing  to  the 
dean  of  the  Faculty  and  to  the  Archbishop.  But 
Abbe  Lantaigne  knew  nothing  about  worldly  pru- 
dence, and  M.  Bergeret,  very  weary,  discouraged, 
and  disillusioned,  had  given  up  caring  for  fruitless 
considerations  of  policy. 

Sceptical  within  the  bounds  of  decorum  and  good 
taste,  the  assiduous  devotions  of  his  wife  and  the 
endless  catechisms  of  his  daughters  had  resulted  in 
his  being  impeached  of  clericalism  in  the  ministerial 
bureaux,  whilst  certain  speeches  that  had  been  attrib- 
uted to  him  were  used  against  him,  both  by  pro- 
fessing Catholics  and  professional  patriots.  Foiled 
in  his  ambitions,  he  still  meant  to  live  in  his  own 

68 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       69 

way,  and  having  failed  to  learn  how  to  please,  tried 
discreetly  to  displease. 

On  this  peaceful  and  radiant  evening  M.  Ber- 
geret  seeing  the  head  of  the  high  seminary  coming 
along  his  -usual  road,  advanced  several  paces  to 
meet  the  priest  and  joined  him  under  the  first  elm- 
trees  on  the  Mall. 

"To  me  the  place  is  happy  where  I  meet  you," 
said  Abbe  Lantaigne,  who  loved,  before  a  university 
man,  to  air  his  harmless  literary  affectations. 

In  a  few  very  vague  phrases  they  made  a  mutual 
confession  of  the  great  pity  aroused  in  them  both 
by  the  world  in  which  they  lived.  It  was  Abbe 
Lantaigne  alone  who  deplored  the  decay  of  this 
ancient  city,  so  rich,  during  the  Middle  Ages,  in 
knowledge  and  thought,  and  now  subject  to  a  few 
petty  tradesmen  and  freemasons.  In  frank  opposi- 
tion to  this,  M.  Bergeret  said: 

"In  days  gone  by  men  were  just  what  they  are 
now;  that  is  to  say,  moderately  good  and  moder- 
ately bad." 

"Not  so !"  answered  M.  Lantaigne.  "Men  were 
vigorous  in  character  and  strong  in  doctrine  when 
Raymond  the  Great,  surnamed  the  balsamic  doctor, 
taught  in  this  town  the  epitome  of  human  knowl- 
edge." 

The  professor  and  the  priest  sat  down  on  a  stone 
bench  where  two  old  men,  pale-faced  and  decrepit, 
were   already  sitting  without  saying  a  word.     In 


70      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

front  of  the  bench,  green  meadows,  wreathed  In 
light  mist,  stretched  gently  downwards  to  the  pop- 
lars that  fringed  the  river. 

"Monsieur  I'abbe,"  said  the  professor,  "I  have, 
like  everybody  else,  turned  over  the  pages  of  the 
Hortus  and  the  Thesaurus  of  Raymond  the  Great 
in  the  municipal  library.  Moreover,  I  have  read 
the  new  book  that  Abbe  Cazeaux  has  devoted  to  the 
balsamic  doctor.  Now,  what  struck  me  in  that 
book  .  .  ." 

"Abbe  Cazeaux  is  one  of  my  pupils,"  interrupted 
M.  Lantaigne.  "His  book  on  Raymond  the  Great 
is  based  on  facts,  which  is  praiseworthy;  it  is 
founded  on  theology,  which  is  still  more  praise- 
worthy and  rare,  for  theology  is  lost  in  this 
decadent  France,  which  was  the  greatest  of  the 
nations  as  long  as  she  was  the  most  theological." 

"This  book  of  M.  Cazeaux's,"  answered  M. 
Bergeret,  "appeared  to  me  to  be  interesting  from 
several  points  of  view.  For  want  of  a  knowledge 
of  theology  I  lost  myself  in  it  more  than  once. 
Yet  I  fancied  I  could  see  in  it  that  the  blessd  Ray- 
mond, rigidly  orthodox  monk  as  he  was,  claimed  for 
the  teacher  the  right  of  professing  two  contra- 
dictory opinions  on  the  same  subject,  the  one 
theological  and  in  accordance  with  revelation,  the 
other  'purely  human  and  based  on  experience  or 
reason.  The  balsamic  doctor,  whose  statue  adorns 
80  sternly  the  courtyard  of  the  Archbishop's  palace, 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       71 

maintained,  according  to  what  I  have  been  able  to 
understand,  that  one  and  the  same  man  may  deny, 
as  an  observer  or  as  a  disputant,  the  truths  which, 
as  a  Christian,  he  believes  and  confesses.  And  it 
seemed  to  me  that  your  pupil,  M.  Cazeaux,  ap- 
proved of  a  system  so  strange." 

Abbe  Lantaigne,  quite  animated  by  what  he  had 
just  heard,  drew  his  red  silk  handkerchief  from  his 
pocket,  unfurled  it  like  a  flag,  and  with  flushed  face 
and  mouth  wide  open  flung  himself  fearlessly  on  the 
challenge  thrown  down. 

"Monsieur  Bergeret,  as  to  whether  one  can  have, 
on  the  same  subject,  two  distinct  opinions,  the  one 
theological  and  of  divine  origin,  the  other  purely 
rational  or  experimental  and  of  human  origin,  that 
is  a  question  which  I  answer  in  the  affirmative. 
And  I  am  going  to  prove  to  you  the  truth  of  this 
apparent  contradiction  by  a  most  common  instance. 
When,  seated  in  your  study,  before  your  table 
loaded  with  books  and  papers,  you  exclaim,  'It  is 
incredible  I  I  have  just  this  moment  put  my  paper- 
knife  on  this  table  and  now  I  do  not  see  it  there. 
I  see  it,  I'm  sure  I  see  it,  and  yet  I  no  longer  see  it.' 
When  you  think  in  this  way.  Monsieur  Bergeret, 
you  have  two  contradictory  opinions  with  respect  to 
the  same  object,  one  that  your  paper-knife  is  on  the 
table  because  it  ought  to  be  there :  that  opinion  is 
based  on  reason;  the  other  that  your  paper-knife 
is  not  on  the  table,  because  you  do  not  see  it  there : 


72      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

that  opinion  is  based  on  experience.  There  you 
have  two  irreconcilable  opinions  on  the  same  sub- 
ject. And  they  are  simultaneous.  You  affirm  at 
the  same  time  both  the  presence  and  the  absence  of 
the  paper-knife.  You  exclaim,  'It  is  there,  I  am 
sure  of  it,'  at  the  very  moment  you  are  proving  it  is 
not  there." 

And,  having  finished  his  demonstration.  Abbe 
Lantaigne  waved  his  chequered,  snuff-besprinkled 
silk  handkerchief,  like  the  flaming  banner  of 
scholasticism. 

But  the  professor  of  literature  was  not  convinced. 
He  had  no  difficulty  in  showing  the  emptiness  of 
this  sophism.  He  replied  quite  gently  in  the  rather 
weak  voice  that  he  habitually  husbanded,  that,  in 
looking  for  his  paper-knife,  he  experienced  fear  and 
hope,  by  turns  and  not  simultaneously,  the  result  of 
an  uncertainty  which  could  not  last;  for  it  ended  by 
his  making  sure  whether  the  knife  was  on  the  table 
or  not. 

"There  is  nothing,  monsieur  I'abbe,"  added  he, 
"nothing  in  this  instance  of  the  boxwood  knife  that 
is  applicable  to  the  contradictory  judgment  which 
the  blessed  Raymond,  or  M.  Cazeaux,  or  you  your- 
self, might  form  on  such  or  such  a  fact  recorded  in 
the  Bible,  when  you  state  that  it  is  at  the  same  time 
both  true  and  false.  Allow  me,  in  my  turn,  to 
give  you  an  instance.  I  choose,  not,  of  course,  in 
order   to   ensnare   you,   but   because   this   incident 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       73 

comes  of  its  own  accord  into  my  mind, — I  choose 
the  story  of  Joshua  causing  the  sun  to  stand 
still.  .  .  ." 

M.  Bergeret  passed  his  tongue  over  his  lips  and 
smiled.  For  in  truth  he  was,  in  the  secret  places  of 
his  soul,  a  Voltairean: 

".  .  .  Joshua  causing  the  sun  to  stand  still. 
Will  you  tell  me,  straight  out,  monsieur  I'abbe,  that 
Joshua  made  the  sun  stand  still  and  did  not  make 
it  stand  still?" 

The  head  of  the  high  seminary  had  by  no 
means  an  air  of  embarrassment.  Splendid  contro- 
versialist as  he  was,  he  turned  to  his  opponent  with 
flashing  eyes  and  heaving  breast. 

"After  every  reservation  has  been  expressly  made 
with  respect  to  the  true  interpretation,  both  literal 
and  spiritual,  of  the  passage  in  Judges  which  you 
attack  and  against  which  so  many  unbelievers  have 
blindly  dashed  themselves  before  you,  I  will  reply 
to  you  fearlessly.  Yes,  I  have  two  distinct  opinions 
as  to  the  interpretation  of  this  miracle.  I  believe 
as  a  natural  philosopher,  for  reasons  drawn  from 
physics,  that  is  to  say,  from  observation,  that  the 
earth  turns  round  a  motionless  sun.  And  as  a 
theologian  I  believe  that  Joshua  caused  the  sun  to 
stand  still.  There  is  here  a  contradiction.  But 
this  contradiction  is  not  irreconcilable.  I  will 
prove  it  to  you  at  once.  For  the  idea  which  we  form 
of  the  sun  is  purely  human;  it  only  concerns  man 


74      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

and  could  not  be  applicable  to  God.  For  man,  the 
sun  does  not  turn  round  the  earth.  I  grant  it,  and 
am  willing  to  decide  in  favour  of  Copernicus.  But 
I  will  not  go  so  far  as  to  force  God  to  become  a 
Copernican  like  myself,  and  I  shall  not  inquire 
whether,  for  God,  the  sun  turns  or  does  not  turn 
round  the  earth.  To  speak  truly,  I  had  no  need 
of  the  text  of  Judges  in  order  to  know  that  our 
human  astronomy  is  not  the  astronomy  of  God. 
Speculations  as  to  time,  number  and  space  do  not 
embrace  infinity,  and  it  is  a  mad  idea  to  wish  to 
entangle  the  Holy  Spirit  in  a  physical  or  mathe- 
matical difficulty." 

"Then,"  asked  the  professor,  "you  admit  that, 
even  in  mathematics,  it  is  permissable  to  have  two 
contradictory  opinions,  the  one  human,  the  other 
divine?" 

"I  will  not  risk  being  reduced  to  that  extremity," 
answered  Abbe  Lantaigne.  "There  is  in  mathe- 
matics an  exactitude  which  practically  reconciles  it 
with  absolute  truth.  Numbers,  on  the  contrary, 
are  only  dangerous  because  the  reason,  being 
tempted  to  seek  in  them  for  its  own  principle,  runs 
the  risk  of  going  so  far  astray  as  to  see  nothing  in 
the  universe  save  a  system  of  numbers.  This  error 
has  been  condemned  by  the  Church.  Yet  I  will 
answer  you  boldly  that  human  mathematics  are  not 
divine  mathematics.  Doubtless,  however,  it  would 
not  be  possible  for  one  to  contradict  the  other,  and 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       75 

I  prefer  to  believe  that  you  do  not  wish  to  make 
me  say  that  for  God  three  and  three  can  make  nine. 
But  we  do  not  know  all  the  properties  of  numbers, 
and  God  does. 

"I  hear  that  there  are  priests,  regarded  as 
eminent,  who  maintain  that  science  ought  to  agree 
with  theology.  I  detest  this  impertinence,  I  will 
say  this  impiety,  for  there  is  a  certain  impiety  in 
making  the  immutable  and  absolute  truth  walk  in 
harmony  with  that  imperfect  and  provisional  truth 
which  is  called  science.  This  madness  of  assimilat- 
ing reality  to  appearance,  the  body  to  the  soul,  has 
produced  a  multitude  of  miserable,  baneful  opinions 
through  which  the  apologists  of  this  period  have 
allowed  their  foolhardy  feebleness  to  be  seen. 
One,  a  distinguished  member  of  the  Society  of 
Jesus,  admits  the  plurality  of  inhabited  worlds;  he 
allows  that  intelligent  beings  may  inhabit  Mars  and 
Venus,  provided  that  to  the  earth  there  be  reserved 
the  privilege  of  the  Cross,  by  which  it  again 
becomes  unique  and  peculiar  in  the  Creation.  The 
other,  a  man  who  not  without  some  merit  occupied 
in  the  Sorbonne  the  chair  of  theology  which  has 
since  been  abolished,  grants  that  the  geologist  can 
trace  the  vestiges  of  preadamites  and  reduces  the 
Genesis  of  the  Bible  to  the  organisation  of  one 
province  of  the  universe  for  the  sojourn  of  Adam, 
and  his  seed.  O  dull  folly!  O  pitiable  boldness! 
O  ancient  novelties,  already  condemned  a  hundred 


76      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

times!  O  violation  of  sacred  unity!  How  much 
better,  like  Raymond  the  Great  and  his  historian, 
to  proclaim  that  science  and  religion  ought  no  more 
to  be  confused  with  each  other  than  the  relative  and 
the  absolute,  the  finite  and  the  infinite,  the  dark- 
ness and  the  light!" 

"Monsieur  I'abbe,"  said  the  professor,  "you 
despise  science." 

The  priest  shook  his  head. 

"Not  so,  Monsieur  Bergeret,  not  so !  I  hold,  on 
the  contrary,  according  to  the  example  of  Saint 
Thomas  Aquinas  and  all  the  great  doctors,  that 
science  and  philosophy  ought  to  be  held  in  high 
esteem  in  the  schools. 

"One  does  not  despise  science  without  despising 
reason;  one  does  not  despise  reason  without 
despising  man;  one  does  not  despise  man  without 
insulting  God.  The  rash  scepticism  which  lays  the 
blame  on  human  reason  is  the  first  step  towards  that 
criminal  scepticism  that  defies  the  divine  mysteries. 
I  value  science  as  a  gift  which  comes  to  us  from  God. 
But  if  God  has  given  us  science,  he  has  not  given 
us  His  science.  His  geometry  is  not  ours.  Ours 
speculates  on  one  plane  or  in  space;  His  works  in 
infinitude.  He  has  not  conceived  us:  that  is  why  I 
consider  that  there  is  a  true  human  science.  He 
has  not  taught  us  all:  that  is  why  I  declare  the 
powerlessness  of  this  science,  even  though  true,  to 
ugree    with    the    truth    of    truths.     And    this    dis- 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       77 

crepancy,  every  time  that  it  occurs  between  the  two, 
I  see  without  fear:  it  proves  nothing,  neither 
against  heaven,  nor  earth.' 

M.  Bergeret  confessed  that  this  system  seemed 
to  him  as  clever  as  it  was  bold,  and  ultimately  con- 
sonant with  the  interests  of  the  faith. 

"But,"  added  he,  "it  is  not  our  Archbishop's 
doctrine.  In  his  pastoral  letters,  Monseigneur 
Chariot  speaks  voluntarily  of  the  truths  of  religion 
being  confirmed  by  the  discoveries  of  science,  and 
especially  by  the  experiments  of  M.  Pasteur." 

"Oh !"  answered  Abbe  Lantaigne  in  a  nasal  voice 
that  hissed  with  scorn,  "His  Eminence  observes,  in 
philosophy  at  least,  the  vow  of  evangelical 
poverty." 

At  the  moment  when  this  phrase  was  lashing  the 
air  beneath  the  quincunxes,  a  corpulent  great-coat, 
capped  by  a  wide  clerical  hat,  passed  in  front  of  the 
bench. 

"Speak  lower,  monsieur  I'abbe,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor; "Abbe  Guitrel  hears  you." 


VIII 

\LE  PREFET  WORMS-CLAVELIN 

was  chatting  with  Abbe  Guitrel  in 
the  shop  of  Rodonneau  junior, 
goldsmith  and  jeweller.  He  leant 
back  in  an  arm-chair  and  crossed  his 
legs  so  that  the  sole  of  one  of  his  boots  stuck  up 
towards  the  placid  old  man's  chin. 

"Monsieur  I'abbe,  it  is  useless  for  you  to  speak: 
you  are  an  enlightened  priest;  you  see  in  religion 
a  collection  of  moral  precepts,  a  necessary  disci- 
pline, and  not  a  set  of  antiquated  dogmas,  of 
mysteries  whose  absurdity  is  only  too  little  myste- 
rious." 

As  a  priest  M.  Guitrel  had  excellent  rules  of 
conduct.  One  of  these  rules  was  to  avoid  scandal 
and  to  hold  his  tongue,  rather  than  expose  the  truth 
to  the  mockery  of  unbelievers.  And,  as  this  pre- 
caution agreed  with  the  bent  of  his  character,  he 
observed  it  scrupulously.  But  M.  le  prefet  Worms- 
Clavelin  was  lacking  in  discretion.  His  vast,  fleshy 
nose,  his  thick  lips,  seemed  like  a  powerful  ap- 
paratus of  suction  and  absorption,  whilst  his  reced- 
ing forehead,  above  his  great  pale  eyes,  betrayed 
his  opposition  to  all  moral  delicacy.  He  persisted, 
marshalled  against  Christian  dogmas  the  arguments 

78 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       79 

of  the  masonic  lodges  and  the  literary  cafes,  and 
concluded  by  saying  that  it  was  impossible  for  an 
intelligent  man  to  believe  a  word  of  the  Catechism. 
Then,  bringing  down  his  fat,  beringed  hand  on  the 
priest's  shoulder,  he  said: 

"You  don't  answer,  my  dear  abbe;  you  are  of  my 
opinion." 

M.  Guitrel,  in  some  sort  a  martyr,  was  forced  to 
confess  his  faith. 

"Pardon  me,  monsieur  le  prefet;  that  little  book, 
the  Catechism,  which  it  is  the  fashion  to  despise 
in  certain  quarters,  contains  more  truths  than  the 
great  treatises  on  philosophy  which  make  such  a 
vast  noise  in  the  world.  The  Catechism  unites 
the  most  learned  metaphysics  with  the  most  effec- 
tive simplicity.  This  appreciation  is  not  mine;  it 
is  that  of  an  eminent  philosopher,  M.  Jules  Simon, 
who  ranks  the  Catechism  above  Plato's  Timaus." 

The  prefet  dared  not  contradict  the  opinion  of 
an  ex-minister.  He  remembered  at  the  same  time 
that  his  official  superior,  the  present  Secretary  of 
State  for  the  Home  Department,  was  a  Protestant. 
He  said:  "As  an  official  I  respect  all  religions 
equally,  Protestantism  as  well  as  Catholicism.  As 
a  man,  I  am  a  freethinker,  and  if  I  had  any  prefer- 
ence as  to  dogma,  let  me  tell  you,  monsieur  I'abbe, 
that  it  would  be  in  favour  of  the  Reformed 
Party." 

M.  Guitrel  replied  in  an  unctuous  voice:    "There 


8o      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

are,  doubtless,  among  Protestants,  many  persons 
eminently  estimable  from  the  point  of  view  of 
morals,  and  I  dare  say  many  exemplary  persons,  if 
they  are  judged  from  the  world's  standpoint.  But 
the  so-called  reformed  Church  is  but  a  limb  hacked 
from  the  Catholic  Church,  and  the  place  of  the 
wound  still  bleeds." 

Indifferent  to  this  powerful  phrase,  borrowed 
from  Bossuet,  M.  le  prefet  drew  from  his  case  a 
big  cigar,  lighted  it,  and  holding  out  the  case  to  the 
priest: 

"Will  you  accept  a  cigar,  monsieur  I'abbe?" 

Being  densely  ignorant  of  ecclesiastical  discipline, 
and  believing  that  tobacco-smoking  was  forbidden 
to  the  clergy,  he  offered  a  cigar  to  M.  Guitrel  in 
order  to  make  him  look  awkward  or  to  lead  him 
astray.  In  his  ignorance  he  believed  that  by  this 
offer  he  was  leading  a  wearer  of  the  cassock  into 
sin,  making  him  fall  into  disobedience,  perhaps 
into  sacrilege,  and  almost  into  apostasy.  But  M. 
Guitrel  placidly  took  the  cigar,  slipped  it  carefully 
into  the  pocket  of  his  great-coat,  and  said  urbanely 
that  he  would  smoke  it  after  supper  in  his  room. 

Thus  M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin  and  Abbe 
Guitrel,  professor  of  sacred  rhetoric  at  the  high 
seminary,  conversed  in  the  goldsmith's  office. 
Near  them,  Rondonneau  junior,  contractor  to  the 
Archbishop,  who  also  worked  for  the  prefecture, 
listened  to  the  conversation  discreetly,  without  tak- 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       8i 

ing  part  In  it.  He  was  preparing  his  mall,  and  his 
bald  pate  came  and  went  among  his  account-books 
and  the  samples  of  commercial  jewellery  heaped 
up  on  the  table. 

With  a  brusque  movement  M.  le  prefet  stood  up- 
right, pushed  Abbe  Guitrel  to  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  into  the  recess  of  the  window,  and  whispered 
in  his  ear: 

"My  dear  Guitrel,  you  know  that  the  bishopric 
of  Tourcoing  is  vacant." 

"I  have  in  fact,"  answered  the  priest,  "learnt  of 
the  death  of  Monseigneur  Duclou.  It  is  a  great 
loss  for  the  Church  of  France.  Monseigneur  Du- 
clou's  merits  were  only  equalled  by  his  modesty. 
He  excelled  in  preaching.  His  pastoral  addresses 
are  models  of  hortatory  eloquence.  Shall  I  dare 
to  recall  to  mind  that  I  knew  him  in  Orleans,  at  the 
time  when  he  was  still  Abbe  Duclou,  the  revered 
cure  of  Salnt-Euverte,  and  that  at  that  time  he 
deigned  to  honour  me  with  his  gracious  friendship? 
The  news  of  his  premature  death  was  particularly 
distressing  to  me." 

He  was  silent,  letting  his  lips  droop  In  sign  of 
grief. 

"It's  not  a  question  of  that,"  said  the  prefet. 
"He  Is  dead;  it  is  a  question  of  filling  his  place." 

M.  Guitrel's  face  changed.  Now,  screwing  up 
his  little  eyes  till  they  were  quite  round,  he  looked 
like  a  rat  who  sees  bacon  In  the  larder. 


82       THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

"You  must  know,  my  dear  Gultrel,"  continued 
the  prefet,  "that  this  business  has  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  me.  It  is  not  I  who  appoint  the  bishops. 
I  am  not  the  keeper  of  the  seals,  nor  the  nuncio,  nor 
the  Pope.     God  be  thanked !" 

And  he  began  to  laugh. 

"By  the  bye,  on  what  terms  do  you  stand  with 
the  nuncio?" 

"The  nuncio,  monsieur  le  prefet,  looks  upon  me 
with  friendliness,  as  a  humble  and  dutiful  servant 
of  the  Holy  Father.  But  I  do  not  flatter  myself 
that  he  especially  heeds  me,  in  the  humble  station 
in  which  I  have  been  placed  and  where  I  am  content 
to  remain." 

"My  dear  abbe,  if  I  speak  to  you  about  this 
affair — quite  between  ourselves,  isn't  it? — it  is 
because  there  is  a  question  of  sending  a  priest  from 
my  county  town  to  Tourcoing.  I  hear  on  good 
authority  that  the  name  of  Abbe  Lantaigne,  head  of 
the  high  seminary,  is  being  brought  forward,  and  it 
is  not  impossible  that  I  may  be  asked  to  supply  con- 
fidential information  about  the  candidate.  He  is 
your  ecclesiastical  superior.  What  do  you  think 
of  him?" 

M.  Guitrel  answered,  with  downcast  eyes: 

"It  is  certain  that  Abbe  Lantaigne  would  bring  to 
the  episcopal  see  once  sanctified  by  the  apostle  Loup 
both  eminent  piety  and  the  precious  gifts  of  elo- 
quence.    His  Lenten   sermons  preached  at  Saint- 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       83 

Exupere  have  been  justly  admired  for  their  logical 
arrangement  of  ideas  and  power  of  expression,  and 
it  is  commonly  recognised  that  some  of  the  sermons 
would  fall  in  no  respect  short  of  perfection,  if  there 
were  present  in  them  that  unction,  that  perfumed 
and  consecrated  oil,  if  I  may  dare  so  to  call  it,  which 
alone  penetrates  the  heart. 

"The  cure  of  Saint-Exupere  took  pleasure  in 
being  the  first  to  declare  that  M.  Lantaigne,  in 
speaking  the  word  from  the  pulpit  of  the  most  ven- 
erable church  in  the  diocese,  had  deserved  well  of 
the  great  apostle  of  the  Gauls  who  laid  the  first 
stone  of  it,  by  reason  of  an  ardour  and  a  zeal  whose 
very  excesses  were  excused  by  their  benevolent  ori- 
gin. He  only  deplored  the  orator's  excursions 
into  the  domain  of  contemporary  history.  For  it 
must  needs  be  confessed  that  M.  Lantaigne  has  no 
fear  of  walking  on  embers  that  are  still  burning. 
M.  Lantaigne  is  distinguished  by  piety,  learning  and 
talent.  What  a  pity  that  a  priest  worthy  of  being 
raised  to  the  highest  positions  in  the  Church  should 
believe  it  to  be  his  duty  to  proclaim  a  devotion, 
doubtless  praiseworthy  in  principle,  but  reckless  in 
its  results,  to  an  exiled  family  from  whom  he  has  re- 
ceived favours.  He  takes  pleasure  in  showing  a 
copy  of  the  Imitation  de  Jesus-Christ,  bound  in  pur- 
ple and  gold,  which  was  given  to  him  by  the  Com- 
tesse  de  Paris,  and  he  displays  far  too  freely  the 
extent  of  his  gratitude  and  fidelity.     And  what  a 


84      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

misfortune  that  an  arrogance,  excusable  perhaps 
in  such  lofty  talent,  should  lead  him  even  to  the 
lengths  of  speaking  publicly  under  the  quincunxes 
about  the  Cardinal-Archbishop  in  terms  which  I 
dare  not  repeat!  Alas!  failing  my  voice,  all  the 
trees  on  the  Mall  would  re-utter  these  words  that 
fell  from  the  mouth  of  M.  Lantaigne,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  M.  Bergeret,  professor  of  literature:  'In 
brain  alone,  His  Eminence  observes  the  evangelical 
vow  of  poverty!'  Such  sayings  are  habitual  with 
him,  and  was  he  not  heard  to  say  at  the  last  ordi- 
nation, when  His  Eminence  advanced  clothed  in 
those  pontifical  ornaments  which  he  bears  with  so 
much  dignity,  notwithstanding  his  short  stature : 
'Golden  cross,  wooden  bishop'?  Most  unseason- 
ably he  thus  censured  the  magnificence  with  which 
Monseigneur  Chariot  delights  to  celebrate  the 
offices  as  well  as  to  regulate  the  ordering  of  his 
official  banquets,  and  especially  the  dinner  which  he 
gave  to  the  general  in  command  of  the  new  army- 
corps,  and  to  which  you  were  invited.  Monsieur  le 
prefet.  And  in  particular  any  better  agreement 
between  the  prefecture  and  the  archbishopric  offends 
Abbe  Lantaigne,  who  is  far  too  inclined,  unfortu- 
nately, to  prolong  the  painful  misunderstandings 
from  which  Church  and  State  suffer  equally,  in  scorn 
of  the  precepts  of  St.  Paul  and  the  teaching  of 
His  Holiness  Leo  XIH." 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       85 

The  prefet  opened  his  mouth  quite  wide,  being 
in  the  habit  of  listening  with  it.     He  burst  out: 

"This  Lantaigne  is  steeped  in  the  most  detestable 
spirit  of  clericalism!  He  owes  me  a  grudge? 
What  has  he  got  against  me?  Am  I  not  tolerant 
and  liberal  enough?  Did  I  not  shut  my  eyes  when 
on  all  sides  the  monks  and  nuns  re-entered  the  con- 
vents, the  schools?  For  if  we  vigorously  uphold 
the  essential  laws  of  the  Republic,  we  hardly  en- 
force them.  But  priests  are  incorrigible.  You  are 
all  the  same.  You  cry  out  that  you  are  being  op- 
pressed as  soon  as  you  yourself  are  not  oppressing. 
And  what  does  he  say  about  me,  this  Lantaigne  of 
yours?" 

"Nothing  definite  can  be  set  forth  against  the 
administration  of  M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin,  but 
an  uncompromising  soul  like  M.  Lantaigne  never 
forgives  either  your  association  with  freemasonry 
or  your  Jewish  origin." 

The  prefet  shook  the  ash  from  his  cigar.  "The 
Jews  are  no  friends  of  mine.  I  have  no  ties  in 
the  Jewish  world.  But  be  tranquil,  my  dear  abbe, 
I  give  you  my  word  that  M.  Lantaigne  shall  not  be 
bishop  of  Tourcoing.  I  have  enough  influence  in 
the  bureaux  to  checkmate  him.  .  .  .  Just  listen  to 
me,  Guitrel :  I  had  no  money  when  I  started  out  in 
life.  I  made  connections  for  myself.  Connections 
are  worth  nearly  as  much  as  wealth.     I  have  many 


86      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

and  good  ones.  I  shall  be  on  the  watch  to  see  that 
Abbe  Lantaigne  cuts  his  own  throat  in  the  bureaux. 
Besides,  my  wife  has  a  candidate  for  the  bishopric 
of  Tourcoing.  And  that  candidate  is  you,  Gui- 
trel." 

At  this  word.  Abbe  Guitrel  cast  down  his  eyes 
and  flung  up  his  arms. 

"I,  sit  in  the  seat  sanctified  by  the  blessed  Loup 
and  by  so  many  pious  apostles  of  Northern  Gaull 
Can  such  a  thought  have  occurred  to  Madame 
Worms-Clavelin  ?" 

"My  dear  Guitrel,  she  wishes  that  you  should 
wear  the  mitre.  And  I  assure  you  she  is  powerful 
enough  to  create  a  bishop.  For  my  part,  I  shall 
not  be  sorry  to  give  a  Republican  bishop  to  the  Re- 
public. That's  understood,  my  dear  Guitrel;  you 
look  after  the  Archbishop  and  the  nuncio ;  my  wife 
and  I  will  set  the  bureaux  in  motion." 

And  M.  Guitrel  murmured  with  clasped  hands: 

"The  ancient  and  venerable  see  of  Tourcoing!" 

"A  third-class  bishopric,  a  mere  hole,  my  dear 
abbe.  But  one  must  make  a  beginning.  Why! 
do  you  know  where  I  started  my  career  in  official 
life?  At  Ceret!  I  was  sous-prefet  of  Ceret,  in 
the  Pyrenees-Orientales !  Would  any  one  credit 
it?  .  .  .  But  I  am  wasting  my  time  gossiping  .  .  . 
Good  evening,  Monseigneur." 

The  prefet  held  out  his  hand  to  the  priest.  And 
M.  Guitrel  went  off  along  the  winding  street  of  the 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       87 

Tintelleries,  humbly  and  with  shoulders  bent,  yet 
planning  cunning  measures  and  promising  himself, 
on  the  day  when  he  wore  the  mitre  and  grasped  the 
crozier,  to  resist  the  civil  Government,  like  a  prince 
of  the  Church,  to  fight  the  freemasons  and  to  hurl 
anathemas  at  the  principles  of  freethought,  the 
Republic,  and  the  Revolution. 


IX 


N  article  in  le  Liberal  informed  the 
town  of  .  .  .  that  it  possessed  a 
prophetess.  This  was  Mademoi- 
selle Claude  Deniseau,  daughter  of 
a  man  who  kept  a  registry  for  coun- 
try servants.  Up  to  the  age  of  seventeen  Made- 
moiselle Deniseau  had  not  revealed  to  the  closest 
observer  any  abnormality  of  mind  or  body.  She 
was  a  fair,  fat,  short  girl,  neither  pretty  nor  ugly, 
but  pleasant  and  of  a  lively  disposition.  "She  had 
received,"  said  le  Liberal,  "a  good  middle-class  ed- 
ucation, and  she  was  religious  without  bigotry." 
At  the  beginning  of  her  eighteenth  year,  on  the  3rd 
of  February  189-,  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
being  engaged  in  laying  the  cloth  on  the  table  in 
the  dining-room,  she  thought  she  heard  her 
mother's  voice  saying,  "Claudine,  go  to  your  room." 
She  went  there  and  between  the  bed  and  the  door 
she  perceived  a  bright  light,  and  heard  a  voice 
which  spoke  from  the  light,  saying:  "Claudine, 
this  country  must  do  penance,  for  that  will  ward 
off  great  misfortunes.  I  am  Saint  Radegonde, 
Queen  of  France."  Mademoiselle  Deniseau  then 
descried   in  the  splendour   a  luminous  and,  as  It 

88 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      89 

were,  transparent  face  that  wore  a  crown  of  gold 
and  gems. 

After  that  Saint  Radegonde  came  every  day  to 
converse  with  Mademoiselle  Deniseau,  to  whom 
she  revealed  secrets  and  made  prophecies.  She  had 
foretold  the  frosts  that  blighted  the  vine  in 
blossom,  and  revealed  that  M.  Rieu,  cure  of  Sainte- 
Agnes,  would  not  see  the  Easter  festival.  The 
venerable  M.  Rieu  actually  died  on  Holy  Thursday. 
For  the  Republic  and  for  France  she  never  ceased 
to  foretell  terrible  disasters  close  at  hand — fires, 
floods,  massacres.  But  God,  wearied  of  chastising 
a  faithless  people,  would  at  last,  under  a  king,  bring 
back  peace  and  prosperity  to  it.  The  saint  diag- 
nosed and  cured  diseases.  Under  her  inspiration, 
Mademoiselle  Deniseau  had  told  Jobelin,  the  road- 
mender,  of  an  ointment  which  had  cured  him  of  an 
anchylosis  of  the  knee.  Jobelin  had  been  able  to 
resume  his  work  again. 

These  marvels  attracted  a  crowd  of  inquirers  to 
the  flat  inhabited  by  the  Deniseau  family  in  the 
Place  Saint-Exupere,  above  the  tramway  office. 
The  young  girl  was  studied  by  ecclesiastics,  retired 
ofiicers,  and  doctors  of  medicine.  They  believed 
that  they  noticed,  when  she  was  repeating  the  words 
of  Saint  Radegonde,  that  her  voice  became  deeper, 
her  expression  sterner,  and  that  her  limbs  became 
rigid.  They  also  noticed  that  she  used  expressions 
which  are  not  customary  with  young  girls,  and  that 


90      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

her  words  could  be  explained  by  no  natural  means. 

M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin,  at  first  indifferent 
and  scoffing,  soon  followed  the  extraordinary  suc- 
cess of  the  prophetess  with  anxiety,  for  she  an- 
nounced the  end  of  the  Republic  and  the  return  of 
France  to  a  Christian  monarchy. 

M.  Worms-Clavelin  had  entered  office  at  the  time 
of  the  scandals  at  the  Elysee  under  President 
Grevy.  Since  then  he  had  participated  in  those 
cases  of  corruption  that  are  endlessly  being  hushed 
up  and  as  constantly  revived  to  the  great  detriment 
of  Parliament  and  the  public  authority.  And  this 
spectacle,  which  seemed  natural  to  him,  had  in- 
grafted in  his  mind  a  profound  feeling  of  laxity, 
which  spread  from  him  to  all  his  subordinates.  A 
senator  and  two  deputies  from  his  department  were 
being  threatened  with  legal  proceedings.  The 
most  influential  members  of  the  party,  engineers  and 
financiers,  were  either  in  prison  or  in  hiding. 
Under  these  circumstances,  satisfied  that  the  people 
were  attached  to  the  republican  rule,  he  expected 
from  them  neither  enthusiasm  nor  deference,  which 
seemed  to  him  but  old-fashioned  qualities  and  the 
empty  symbols  of  a  vanished  age.  Events  .had  en- 
larged his  naturally  limited  intelligence.  The  vast 
irony  of  things  had  passed  into  his  soul,  making  it 
easy-going,  mocking,  indifferent.  Having  recog- 
nised, moreover,  that  the  electoral  committees  con- 
stituted the  only  real  authority  that  still  subsisted 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       91 

In  the  department,  he  obeyed  them  with  a  semblance 
of  zeal  and  with  secret  opposition.  If  he  executed 
their  orders,  it  was  not  without  a  considerable 
modification  of  their  rigour.  In  a  word,  from 
opportunist  he  had  become  liberal  and  progressive. 
He  willingly  allowed  liberty  of  speech  and  action. 
But  he  was  too  wise  to  allow  any  unbearable 
excesses,  and,  like  a  conscientious  official,  he  took 
good  care  that  the  government  should  not  receive 
any  glaring  insult,  and  that  the  ministers  should 
peaceably  enjoy  that  common  attitude  of  indiffer- 
ence which,  by  gaining  over  their  friends  as  well  as 
their  enemies,  ensured  at  the  same  time  both  their 
power  and  their  repose. 

It  pleased  him  that  the  governmental  papers  and 
the  opposition  ones,  both  being  compromised  by 
financial  transactions,  should  be  utterly  discredited, 
alike  as  to  their  praise  and  their  blame.  The 
socialist  sheet,  being  the  only  independent  one,  was 
also  the  only  violent  one.  But  it  was  very  poor; 
and  the  fear  which  it  Inspired  drove  people  back 
towards  the  government.  Thus  M.  le  prefet 
Worms-Clavelin  was  entirely  sincere  when  he  in- 
formed the  Home  Secretary  that  the  political  situa- 
tion was  excellent  in  his  department.  And  here 
was  the  prophetess  of  the  Place  Salnt-Exupere 
destroying  the  harmony  of  this  happy  state. 
Under  the  direction  of  Saint  Radegonde,  she  an- 
nounced the  fall  of  the  ministry,  the  dissolution  of 


92      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

Parliament,  the  resignation  of  the  President  of  the 
Republic,  and  the  collapse  of  a  discredited  govern- 
ment. She  was  much  more  violent  than  le  Liberal 
and  far  more  influential.  For  le  Liberal  drew  but 
few,  while  the  whole  town  thronged  around  Made- 
moiselle Deniseau.  The  clergy,  the  large  land- 
owners, the  nobility,  the  clerical  press,  hung  upon 
her  and  drank  in  her  words.  Saint  Radegonde 
rallied  the  defeated  enemies  of  the  Republic  and 
brought  together  the  "Conservatives."  A  harm- 
less rally,  but  inconvenient.  M.  Worms-Clavelin 
was  especially  afraid  lest  a  Paris  paper  should  noise 
the  affair  about.  "It  would  then  assume,"  said  he 
to  himself,  "the  proportions  of  a  scandal  and  would 
expose  me  to  a  reprimand  from  the  minister."  He 
resolved  to  look  for  the  quietest  way  of  silencing 
Mademoiselle  Deniseau,  and  first  began  to  make 
inquiries  as  to  the  character  of  her  relations. 

Her  father's  family  was  not  much  respected  in 
the  town.  The  Deniseaux  were  people  of  no  posi- 
tion. Mademoiselle  Claude's  father  kept  a 
registry  office,  the  reputation  of  which  was  neither 
better  nor  worse  than  that  of  other  registries. 
Masters  and  servants  complained  of  it,  but  still 
made  use  of  it.  In  1871  Deniseau  had  had  the 
Commune  proclaimed  in  the  Place  Saint-Exupere. 
Somewhat  later,  upon  the  expulsion  of  three 
Dominicans  at  the  point  of  the  sword,  he  had 
offered    resistance    to    the    gendarmes,    and    had 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       93 

got  himself  arrested.  Next  he  had  stood  at 
municipal  elections  as  a  socialist,  and  had  only 
obtained  a  very  small  number  of  votes.  He  was 
hot-headed  and  weak-minded,  but  believed  to  be 
honest. 

The  mother  was  a  Nadal.  The  Nadals,  in  a 
better  position  than  the  Deniseaux,  were  small 
agricultural  proprietors,  all  much  respected.  One 
of  the  Nadals,  an  aunt  to  Mademoiselle  Claude, 
being  subject  to  hallucinations,  had  been  shut 
up  in  an  asylum  for  some  years.  The  Nadals 
were  religious  and  had  clerical  connections.  M. 
Worms-Clavelin  could  learn  nothing  more  about 
them. 

One  morning  he  had  a  conversation  on  this 
subject  with  his  private  secretary,  M.  Lacarelle, 
who  belonged  to  an  old  family  in  the  neighbourhood 
and  knew  the  department  well. 

"My  dear  Lacarelle,  we  must  put  an  end  to  this 
madness.  For  it  is  plain  that  Mademoiselle 
Deniseau  is  mad." 

Lacarelle  replied  gravely,  not  without  the  kind  of 
arrogance  inseparable  from  his  long  fair  mous- 
taches. 

"Monsieur  le  prefet,  opinions  are  divided  with 
respect  to  this,  and  many  people  believe  that  Made- 
moiselle Deniseau  is  perfectly  sane." 

"After  all,  Lacarelle,  you  do  not  believe  that 
Saint  Radegonde  comes  every  morning  to  chat  with 


94      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

her  and  to  drag  the  head  of  the  State,  along  with 
the  Government,  down  into  the  mire." 

But  Lacarelle  was  of  opinion  that  there  had  been 
exaggeration,  that  ill-disposed  persons  were  making 
the  most  of  an  extraordinary  manifestation.  It 
really  was  extraordinary  that  Mademoiselle 
Deniseau  should  prescribe  sovereign  remedies  for 
incurable  diseases ;  she  had  cured  Jobelin,  the  road- 
mender,  and  an  old  bailiff  called  Favru.  That 
was  not  all.  She  foretold  events  that  fell  out  as 
she  had  said. 

"I  can  vouch  for  one  fact,  monsieur  le  prefet. 
Last  week  Mademoiselle  Deniseau  said:  'There 
is  a  treasure  hidden  in  a  field  called  JFaifeu,  at 
Noiselles.'  They  dug  at  the  place  described  and 
discovered  a  great  slab  of  stone  which  blocked  the 
entrance  of  an  underground  passage." 

"But,  still,"  cried  the  prefet,  "you  cannot  main- 
tain that  Saint  Radegonde  .  .  ." 

He  stopped,  thoughtful  and  questioning.  He 
was  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  saintly  legends  of 
Christian  Gaul  and  of  the  national  antiquities  of 
France.  But  at  school  he  had  studied  text-books  of 
history.  He  was  struggling  to  recall  his  boyish 
recollections. 

"Saint  Radegonde  was  the  mother  of  Saint 
Louis?" 

M.  Lacarelle,  who  knew  more  history,  only 
hesitated  a  moment. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       95 

"No,"  said  he,  "the  mother  of  Saint  Louis  was 
Blanche  of  Castille.  Saint  Radegonde  was  an 
earlier  queen." 

"Well,  she  cannot  be  allowed  to  perform  her 
conjuring  tricks  in  the  county  town.  And  you,  my 
dear  Lacarelle,  you  ought  to  make  her  father  under- 
stand— this  Deniseau,  I  mean  to  say — that  he  has 
nothing  to  do  but  to  give  a  good  flogging  to  his 
daughter  and  put  her  under  lock  and  key." 

Lacarelle  smoothed  his  Gallic  moustaches. 

"Monsieur  le  prefet,  I  advise  you  to  go  and  see 
this  Deniseau  girl.  She  is  interesting.  She  will 
give  you  a  private  sitting  quite  to  yourself." 

"You  can't  mean  it,  Lacarelle  1  Fancy  my 
going  to  be  instructed  by  a  little  hussy  that  my 
Government  is  on  the  point  of  collapse!" 

M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin  was  not  credulous. 
He  only  thought  of  religion  from  a  political  point 
of  view.  He  had  inherited  no  creed  from  his 
parents,  who  were  aliens  to  every  superstition,  as 
they  were  to  every  land.  His  soul  had  sucked  none 
of  the  nourishment  of  the  past  from  any  soil.  He 
remained  empty,  colourless,  unfettered.  Through 
metaphysical  incompetency  and  the  instinctive  feel- 
ing for  action  and  acquisition,  he  clung  to  tangible 
truth,  and  in  all  good  faith  believed  himself  to  be 
a  positivist.  Having  but  lately  drunk  his  bocks  in 
the  cafes  at  Montmartre  in  the  company  of  chemists 
with  political  opinions,  he  still  preserved  a  blind 


96      THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

trustfulness  in  scientific  methods,  which  he  in  his 
turn  extolled  in  the  lodges  to  the  leading  spirits 
among  the  freemasons.  He  enjoyed  embellishing 
his  political  intrigues  and  administrative  expedients 
with  the  fair  appearance  of  sociological  experiment. 
And  the  more  useful  science  was  to  him  the  better 
he  appreciated  it.  "I  profess,"  said  he  in  all  sin- 
cerity, "that  unquestioning  faith  in  facts  which  con- 
stitutes the  scientist,  the  sociologist."  And  it  was 
just  because  he  only  believed  in  facts  and  because  he 
professed  the  creed  of  positivism  that  the  affair  of 
the  Sibyl  began  to  worry  him. 

His  private  secretary,  M.  Lacarelle,  had  said  to 
him:  "This  young  woman  has  cured  a  road- 
mender  and  a  bailiff.  These  are  facts.  She  has 
pointed  out  the  place  where  they  would  discover  a 
treasure,  and  they  really  found  in  that  place  a  trap- 
door to  the  opening  of  a  subterranean  passage. 
That  is  a  fact.  She  foretold  the  failure  of  the 
vines.     That  is  a  fact." 

M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin  had  the  instinct  of 
mockery  and  a  sense  of  humour,  but  this  word  fact 
exercised  a  spell  over  his  mind;  and  it  occurred 
vaguely  to  his  memory  that  doctors  like  Charcot 
had  made  observations  in  the  hospitals  on  sick 
people  gifted  with  extraordinary  powers.  He  re- 
membered certain  curious  phenomena  of  hysteria 
and  cases  of  second  sight.  He  wondered  whether 
Mademoiselle  Deniseau  were  not  a  sufficiently  in- 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       97 

terestlng  hysteric  patient  for  her  to  be  handed  over 
to  the  experts  in  mental  cases,  which  would  rid  the 
town  of  her. 

He  thought: 

*'I  might  give  an  official  order  for  the  consign- 
ment of  this  girl  to  an  asylum,  as  in  the  case  of  any 
person  whose  mental  derangement  forms  a  danger 
to  public  order  and  personal  safety;  but  the  enemies 
of  the  government  would  squeal  like  polecats,  and  I 
can  already  hear  lawyer  Lerond  charging  me  with 
unlawful  committal.  The  plot  must  be  unravelled, 
if  the  clericals  of  the  county  town  have  concocted 
one.  For  it  is  not  to  be  endured  that  Made- 
moiselle Deniseau  should  declare  every  day,  as  the 
mouthpiece  of  Saint  Radegonde,  that  the  Republic 
is  sinking  into  the  mire.  I  grant  that  some  re- 
grettable deeds  have  been  done.  Certain  partial 
changes  will  force  themselves  on  us,  especially  in 
national  representation,  but,  thank  God,  the  govern- 
ment is  still  strong  enough  for  me  to  support  it." 


X 


BBE  LANTAIGNE,  principal  of  the 
high  seminary,  and  M.  Bergcret, 
professor  of  literature,  were  seated 
in  conversation  on  a  bench  on  the 
Mall,  according  to  their  custom  in 
summer.  On  every  subject  they  were  opposed  in 
opinion;  never  were  two  men  more  different  in  mind 
and  character.  But  they  were  the  only  people  in  the 
town  who  took  an  interest  in  general  ideas.  This 
fellow-feeling  united  them.  While  philosophising 
beneath  the  quincunxes  when  the  weather  was  fine, 
they  consoled  each  other,  one  for  the  loneliness  of 
celibacy,  the  other  for  the  vexations  of  domestic 
life;  both  for  their  professional  cares  and  for  the 
unpopularity  each  alike  shared. 

On  this  particular  day  they  could  see  from  the 
bench  where  they  sat  the  monument  of  Jeanne 
d'Arc  still  shrouded  in  wrappings.  The  maid 
having  once  slept  a  night  in  the  town,  at  the  house 
of  an  honest  dame  called  la  Gausse,  in  189—  the 
municipality,  with  the  concurrence  of  the  State,  had 
caused  a  monument  to  be  raised  to  commemorate 
this  stay.  This  monument,  the  work  of  two  artists, 
the  one  a  sculptor  and  the  other  an  architect,  both 
natives  of  the  district,  displayed  the   Maid  fully 

98 


THE  ELiM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL       99 

armed,   standing,   meditative,   on   a  high   pedestal. 

The  date  of  the  unveiling  was  fixed  for  the 
following  Sunday.  The  Minister  of  Education  was 
expected,  and  it  was  reckoned  that  there  would  be  a 
lavish  distribution  of  crosses  of  honour  and 
academic  decorations.  The  townsfolk  thronged 
the  Mall  to  gaze  at  the  linen  which  covered  the 
bronze  figure  and  the  stone  pedestal.  Outsiders 
installed  themselves  on  the  ramparts.  On  the 
booths  set  up  under  the  quincunxes  the  refreshment- 
sellers  were  nailing  up  bands  of  calico  bearing  the 
legends:  Veritable  hiere  Jeanne  d'Arc. — Cafe  de 
la  Pucelle. 

At  sight  of  this,  M.  Bergeret  remarked  that  one 
ought  to  rejoice  in  this  concourse  of  citizens 
assembled  to  pay  honour  to  the  liberator  of 
Orleans. 

"The  archivist  of  the  department,  M.  Mazure," 
added  he,  "stands  out  from  the  crowd.  He  has 
written  a  memoir  to  prove  that  the  famous 
historical  tapestry,  representing  the  meeting  at 
Chinon,  was  not  made  about  1430  in  Germany,  as 
was  believed,  but  that  it  came  at  that  period  from 
some  studio  of  Flemish  France.  He  submitted  the 
conclusions  of  his  memoir  to  M.  le  prefet  Worms- 
Clavelin,  who  called  them  eminently  patriotic  and 
approved  of  them.  He  expressed  a  hope  that  he 
would  see  the  author  of  this  discovery  receiving  the 
insignia    of    an    officer   of    the   Academy   beneath 


loo    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

Jeanne's  statue.  It  is  also  rumoured  that  in  his 
speech  at  the  unveiling  M.  le  prefet  will  say,  with 
his  eyes  turned  towards  the  Vosges,  that  Jeanne  was 
a  daughter  of  Alsace-Lorraine." 

Abbe  Lantaigne,  caring  but  little  for  a  joke, 
made  no  reply  and  kept  a  grave  face.  In  principle 
he  regarded  these  celebrations  in  honour  of  Jeanne 
d'Arc  as  praiseworthy.  Two  years  before  he  had 
himself  pronounced  at  Saint-Exupere  a  paneg^'ric 
on  the  Maid,  and  had  declared  her  the  type  of 
the  good  Frenchwoman  and  the  good  Christian. 
He  found  no  subject  for  jest  in  a  solemnity  which 
was  a  glorification  of  faith  and  country.  As  a 
patriot  and  a  Christian,  he  only  regretted  that  the 
bishop  and  his  clergy  would  not  take  the  first  place 
in  it. 

"The  thing,"  said  he,  "that  ensures  the  continuity 
of  the  French  nation,  is  neither  kings  nor  presidents 
of  the  Republic,  neither  provincial  governors  nor 
prefets,  neither  officers  of  the  crown  nor  officials  of 
the  present  government;  it  is  the  episcopacy  which, 
from  the  first  apostles  to  the  Gauls  down  to  the 
present  day,  has  continued,  without  break,  change, 
or  diminution,  and  forms,  so  to  say,  the  solid  v/eb 
of  the  history  of  France.  The  power  of  the 
bishops  is  spiritual  and  stable.  The  power  of  the 
kings,  legitimate  but  transitory,  is  decrepit  from  its 
birth.  On  its  continuance  that  of  the  nation  does 
not  depend.     The  nation  is  a  spiritual  conception 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     loi 

inseparable  from  the  moral  and  religious  idea. 
But,  although  absent  in  the  body  from  the  celebra- 
tions that  are  being  arranged  for  here,  the  clergy 
will  be  present  at  them  in  spirit  and  in  truth. 
Jeanne  d'Arc  is  ours,  and  it  is  vain  for  unbelievers 
to  try  and  steal  her  from  us." 

M.  bergeret:  "It  is,  however,  very  natural 
that  this  simple  girl,  having  become  a  symbol  of 
patriotism,  should  be  claimed  by  all  patriots." 

M.  lantaigne:  "I  cannot  imagine — I  have 
told  you  so  before — nationality  without  religion. 
Every  duty  comes  from  God,  the  duty  of  the  citizen 
no  less  than  that  of  others.  If  God  be  ignored  the 
call  of  duty  is  stilled.  If  it  is  a  right  and  a  duty  to 
defend  one's  native  land  against  the  foreigner,  it  is 
not  in  virtue  of  any  pretended  rights  of  man  which 
never  existed,  but  in  conformity  with  the  will  of 
God.  This  conformity  appears  in  the  stories  of 
Jael  and  Judith.  It  shines  clearly  in  the  book  of 
the  Maccabees.  It  can  be  read  in  the  deeds  of  the 
Maid." 

M.  bergeret:  "Then  you  believe,  monsieur 
I'abbe,  that  Jeanne  d'Arc  received  her  mission  from 
God  Himself?  That  will  land  you  in  numberless 
difficulties.  I  will  only  submit  to  you  one  of  these, 
because  it  is  inherent  in  the  nature  of  your  beliefs. 
It  relates  to  the  voices  and  apparitions  which  mani- 
fested themselves  to  the  peasant  of  Domremy. 
Those    who    grant    that    Saint    Catherine    really 


102    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

appeared  to  Jacquot  d'Arc's  daughter,  in  company 
with  Saint  Michael  and  Saint  Marguerite,  will  find 
themselves,  I  fancy,  much  embarrassed  when  it  has 
been  proved  to  them  that  this  Saint  Catherine  of 
Alexandria  never  existed,  and  that  her  history  is  in 
reality  only  a  rather  poor  Greek  romance.  Now 
this  fact  was  proved  as  early  as  the  seventeenth 
century,  not  by  the  freethinkers  of  the  period,  but 
by  a  learned  doctor  of  the  Sorbonne,  Jean  de 
Launoy,  a  man  of  piety  and  good  life.  The 
judicious  Tillemont,  although  so  submissive  to  the 
Church,  rejected  the  biography  of  Saint  Catherine 
as  an  absurd  fable.  Is  not  that  a  difficulty, 
monsieur  Tabbe,  for  those  who  believe  that  the 
Voices  of  Jeanne  d'Arc  came  from  Heaven?" 

M.  lantaigne:  "The  martyrology,  monsieur, 
worthy  of  all  reverence  as  it  is,  is  not  an  article  of 
faith;  and  it  is  permissible,  in  imitation  of  Doctor 
de  Launoy  and  Tillemont,  to  cast  doubts  on  the 
existence  of  Saint  Catherine  of  Alexandria.  For 
my  part,  I  am  not  inclined  to  go  so  far,  and  I  hold 
such  an  absolute  denial  as  rash.  I  recognise  that 
the  biography  of  this  saint  has  come  to  us  from  the 
East  overlaid  everywhere  with  fabulous  details,  but 
I  believe  that  these  embellishments  have  been  laid 
over  a  solid  foundation.  Neither  Launoy  nor 
Tillemont  is  infallible.  It  is  not  certain  that  Saint 
Catherine  never  existed,  and  if  by  chance  historic 
proof  of  her  non-existence  were  established,  that 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     103 

would  give  way  before  the  theological  testimony  to 
the  contrary,  furnished  by  the  miraculous  appear- 
ances of  this  saint  authenticated  by  the  Ordinary 
and  solemnly  recognised  by  the  Pope.  For,  after 
all,  good  logic  requires  that  truths  of  the  scientific 
plane  should  yield  to  truths  of  a  higher  order.  But 
we  are  not  yet  in  a  position  to  know  the  opinion 
of  the  Church  as  to  the  Maid's  apparitions. 
Jeanne  d'Arc  has  not  been  canonised,  and  the 
miracles  wrought  for  her  or  by  her  are  open  to 
discussion:  I  neither  deny  nor  affirm  them,  and  it  is 
a  purely  human  vision  which  makes  me  perceive  in 
the  history  of  this  marvellous  girl  the  hand  of  God 
stretched  out  over  France.  Truth  to  tell,  though, 
that  vision  is  powerful  and  penetrating." 

M.  BERGERET:  "If  I  have  rightly  understood 
you,  monsieur  I'abbe,  you  do  not  consider  the 
strange  event  at  Fierbois  as  an  attested  miracle, 
when  Jeanne,  as  they  say,  pointed  out  a  sword  con- 
cealed in  the  wall.  And  you  are  not  certain  that 
the  Maid,  as  she  herself  declared,  brought  back  a 
child  to  life  at  Lagny.  You  know  my  opinions, 
and  for  my  part  I  should  give  a  natural  interpreta- 
tion to  these  two  facts.  I  suppose  that  the  sword 
was  fastened  to  the  wall  of  the  Church  as  a  votive 
offering,  and  was  consequently  visible.  As  for  the 
child  that  the  Maid  raised  from  the  dead  for  the 
time  necessary  for  the  administration  of  baptism, 
and  who  died  again  after  having  been  brought  tc 


104    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

the  font,  I  confine  myself  to  reminding  you  that 
there  was  near  Domremy  a  Notre-Dame-des- 
Aviots  whose  particular  function  it  was  to  endow 
still-born  children  with  a  few  hours  of  life.  I  sus- 
pect that  the  memory  of  Notre-Dame-des-Aviots 
had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the  illusions  that 
possessed  Jeanne  d'Arc  when  she  believed,  at 
Lagny,  that  she  had  raised  a  new-born  child  from 
the  dead." 

M.  lantaigne:  "There  is  much  uncertainty  in 
these  explanations,  monsieur.  And  rather  than 
adopt  them,  I  suspend  my  judgment,  which  inclines, 
I  confess,  towards  the  miraculous  side,  at  least  with 
respect  to  Saint  Catherine's  sword.  For  the 
passage  is  precise:  the  sword  was  in  the  wall,  and 
it  was  necessary  to  excavate  to  find  it.  Neither  is 
it  impossible,  again,  that  God,  upon  the  efficacious 
prayers  of  a  virgin,  should  have  given  life  back  to 
a  child  that  had  died  without  having  received 
baptism." 

M.  BERGERET:  "You  speak,  monsieur  I'abbe,  of 
'the  efficacious  prayers  of  a  virgin.'  Do  you  then 
grant,  in  accordance  with  the  belief  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  that  there  was  some  virtue,  some  peculiar 
power,  in  Jeanne  d' Arc's  virginity?'* 

M.  LANTAIGNE :  "Clearly  virginity  is  pleasing  to 
God,  and  Jesus  Christ  rejoices  in  the  triumph  of 
His  virgins.  A  young  girl  turned  Attila  and  his 
Huns  back  from  Lutetia;  a  young  girl  delivered 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     105 

Orleans  and  caused  the  lawful  king  to  be  crowned 
at  Rheims." 

The  priest  having  thus  expressed  himself,  M. 
Bergeret  seized  on  his  words  in  a  way  of  his  own. 

"Exactly,"    said    he.      "Jeanne    d'Arc    was    a 
mascotte." 

But  Abbe  Lantaigne  did  not  hear.  He  rose  and 
said: 

"France's  destined  role  in  Christendom  is  not  yet 
achieved.  I  foresee  that  ere  long  God  will  yet 
again  work  His  will  through  the  nation  which  has 
been  the  most  faithful  and  the  most  faithless  to 
Him." 

"And  so  it  is,"  answered  M.  Bergeret,  "that,  as 
in  the  profligate  times  of  King  Charles  VIL,  we 
behold  the  rise  of  prophetesses.  Our  town  indeed 
•  holds  one  of  them,  who  is  making  a  happier  start 
than  Jeanne,  since  Jacquot  d'Arc's  daughter  was 
regarded  as  mad  by  her  parents,  and  Mademoiselle 
Deniseau  finds  a  disciple  in  her  own  father.  Still  I 
do  not  believe  that  her  good  luck  will  be  great  and 
lasting.  Our  prefet,  M.  Worms-Clavelin,  is  some- 
what wanting  in  good  breeding,  but  he  is  less  of  a 
simpleton  than  Baudricourt,  and  it  is  no  longer  the 
custom  for  the  heads  of  the  State  to  give  audience 
to  prophetesses.  M.  Felix  Faure  will  not  be  ad- 
vised by  his  confessor  to  test  Mademoiselle 
Deniseau.  Here,  perhaps,  you  may  reply,  mon- 
sieur I'abbe,   that  the  influence   of  Bernadette  of 


io6    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

Lourdes  is  stronger  in  our  days  than  that  of  Jeanne 
d'Arc  ever  was.  The  latter  overthrew  some  hun- 
dreds of  starving  and  panic-stricken  English; 
Bernadette  has  set  countless  pilgrims  on  the  march 
and  drawn  thousands  of  millions  to  a  mountain  in 
the  Pyrenees.  And  my  revered  friend,  M.  Pierre 
Laffitte,  assures  me  that  we  have  entered  on  an  era 
of  positive  philosophy." 

"As  for  what  happens  at  Lourdes,"  said  Abbe 
Lantaigne,  "without  becoming  latitudinarian  or 
falling  into  excessive  credulity,  I  reserve  my  opinion 
on  a  point  upon  which  the  Church  has  made  no 
pronouncement.  But  henceforth  I  see  a  triumph 
for  religion  in  this  crowd  of  pilgrims,  just  as  you 
yourself  see  in  it  a  defeat  for  materialistic 
philosophy." 


XI 


HE  ministry  had  fallen.  M.  le 
prefet  Worms-Clavelin  felt  neither 
surprise  nor  regret  at  this.  In  the 
depths  of  his  heart  he  had  always 
considered  it  too  restless  and  too 
disturbing,  an  object  of  suspicion,  and  not  without 
reason,  to  the  agriculturist,  the  large  merchant,  and 
the  small  investor.  Without  affecting  the  for- 
tunate indifference  of  the  masses,  this  cabinet  had 
exercised,  to  the  prefet' s  grief,  a  vexatious  influence 
over  freemasonry,  the  organisation  by  which,  for 
fifteen  years  past,  the  whole  political  life  of  the 
department  had  been  drawn  together  and  held  in 
check.  M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin  had  been 
able  to  turn  the  masonic  lodges  of  the  department 
into  boards  vested  with  the  preliminary  choice  of 
candidates  for  public  offices,  for  electoral  functions, 
and  for  party  favours.  Exercising  in  this  way  wide 
and  definite  prerogatives,  the  lodges,  being  as  much 
opportunist  as  they  were  radical,  combined,  acted 
in  concert  with  one  another,  and  worked  together 
for  the  republican  cause.  The  prefet,  rejoicing  to 
see  the  ambition  of  some  restraining  the  desires  of 
others,  gathered  together,  on  the  joint  recom- 
mendation   of    the    lodges,    a    band    of    senators, 

107 


io8    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

deputies,  municipal  councillors  and  road-surveyors, 
all  equally  loyal  to  the  government,  yet  sufficiently 
diverse  in  opinion  and  sufficiently  moderate 
to  satisfy  and  reassure  all  republican  parties, 
save  the  socialists.  M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin 
had  brought  about  this  unanimity.  And  now  the 
radical  ministry  must  needs  break  up  so  happy  a 
harmony. 

Ill-luck  decreed  that  the  holder  of  one  of  the 
minor  portfolios  (either  agriculture  or  commerce) 
should  travel  through  the  department  and  stop  for 
him  to  deliver  a  philosophic  and  moral  speech  at 
one  assembly  to  flutter  all  the  assemblies,  divide 
each  lodge  into  two,  set  brother  against  brother, 
and  infuriate  citizen  Mandar,  the  chemist  of  the 
Rue  Culture,  master  of  the  lodge  "New  Alliance," 
and  a  radical,  against  M.  Tricoul,  vine-grower  of 
Les  Tournelles,  master  of  the  lodge  "Sacred 
Friendship,"  and  an  opportunist. 

Mentally  M.  Worms-Clavelin  made  another 
complaint  against  the  fallen  ministry:  that  of 
having  lavishly  distributed  academic  decorations 
and  given  Orders  of  Merit  for  agricultural  pro- 
ficiency to  radical-socialists  only,  thus  robbing  the 
prefet  of  the  advantage  of  governing  with  the  aid 
of  these  decorations,  or  at  least  by  means  of  tardily 
fulfilled  promises  of  them. 

M.  le  prefet  expressed  his  thoughts  accurately  as, 
alone  in  his  study,  he  murmured  these  bitter  words : 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     109 

"If  they  believed  they  could  play  at  politics  by 
upsetting  my  loyal  lodges  and  fastening  my  useful 
palms  to  the  tail  of  every  drunken  dog  in  the  depart- 
ment, they'll  find  themselves  finely  mistaken!" 

Thus  it  was  that  he  heard  of  the  fall  of  the 
ministry  without  any  regret. 

Besides,  these  changes  that  he  had  foreseen  never 
surprised  him.  His  administrative  policy  was  al- 
ways founded  on  the  assumption  that  ministery  suc- 
ceeds minister.  He  made  a  point  of  never  serving 
a  Home  Secretary  with  ardent  zeal.  He  refrained 
from  being  over-pleasing  to  any  one,  and  shunned 
all  opportunities  of  doing  too  well.  This  modera- 
tion, kept  up  during  the  continuance  of  one 
ministry,  assured  him  the  sympathy  of  the  next  one, 
thus  sufficiently  predisposed  in  his  favour  to  ac- 
quiesce in  its  turn  in  the  half-hearted  zeal,  which 
became  a  claim  to  the  favour  of  a  third  cabinet. 
M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin  reigned  without  rul- 
ing, corresponded  briefly  with  the  Place  Beauvau,* 
manoeuvred  the  boards,  and  stayed  in  office. 

In  his  study,  through  the  half-open  windows  of 
which  came  the  scent  of  flowering  lilacs  and  the 
twittering  of  sparrows,  he  was  meditating,  in  a  gen- 
tle and  peaceful  mood,  on  the  lingering  extinction 
of  the  scandals  which  on  two  occasions  had  gone 
near  to  ruining  the  leaders  of  the  party.  He 
looked  forward  to  the  day,  still  far  distant,  on 
*  Where  the  French  Home  Office  is  situated. 


no    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

which  it  would  again  be  possible  to  resume  activity. 
He  reflected  that,  in  spite  of  passing  difficulties,  and 
notwithstanding  the  discord  unluclcily  communi- 
cated to  the  masonic  lodges  and  the  electoral  com- 
mittees, he  would  have  capital  municipal  elections. 
The  mayors  in  this  agricultural  district  were  excel- 
lent. The  spirit  of  the  populace  was  so  loyal  that 
the  two  deputies,  who,  being  compromised  in  sev- 
eral financial  transactions,  were  threatened  with 
legal  proceedings,  had  yet  retained  all  their  influ- 
ence in  their  districts.  He  said  to  himself  that  the 
scrut'm  de  liste*  would  never  have  produced  such 
favourable  results.  In  his  exaltation  of  mJnd 
thoughts  that  were  almost  philosophic  came  to  the 
surface  of  his  mind  as  to  the  ease  with  which  men 
can  be  governed.  He  had  a  confused  vision  of  this 
human  beast  allowing  itself  to  be  led,  and  straggling 
along  in  tireless  gloomy  tractableness  beneath  the 
eye  of  the  shepherding  dog. 

M.  Lacarelle  entered  the  study  with  a  newspaper 
in  his  hand. 

"Monsieur  le  prefet,  the  resignation  of  the  min- 
isters, having  been  accepted  by  the  President  of  the 
Republic,  is  announced  in  VOfficiel." 

M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin  continued  his  gentle 
musing,  and  M.  Lacarelle  turned  up  his  long  Gallic 
moustaches  and  rolled  his  china-blue  eyes,  as  a  sign 

•  In  which  each  voter  inscribes  on  his  paper  as  many  names  ag 
there  are  vacancies  to  be  filled. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     in 

that  he  was  about  to  give  expression  to  a  thought. 
And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  did  so. 

"Opinions  differ  as  to  the  fall  of  the  ministry." 

"Really?"  asked  M.  le  prefet,  who  was  not  lis- 
tening. 

"Well !  monsieur  le  prefet,  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  Mademoiselle  Claudine  Deniseau  predicted 
that  the  ministry  would  fall  at  an  early  date." 

M.  le  prefet  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  had  a 
mind  wise  enough  to  see  that  there  was  nothing 
marvellous  in  the  fulfilment  of  such  a  prophecy. 
But  Lacarelle,  with  a  profound  knowledge  of  local 
affairs,  a  marvellously  contagious  stupidity,  and  an 
exceptional  aptitude  for  self-delusion,  immediately 
related  to  him  three  or  four  new  stories  which  were 
running  through  the  town,  and  especially  the  story 
of  M.  de  Gromance,  to  whom  Saint  Radegonde 
had  said,  in  reply  to  her  visitor's  secret  thought: 
"Be  at  ease,  monsieur  le  comte;  the  child  that  your 
wife  will  bear  is  really  your  son."  Then  Lacarelle 
returned  to  the  disclosure  of  the  hidden  treasure. 
Two  Roman  coins  had  been  found  at  the  place  in- 
dicated. The  excavations  were  still  going  on. 
There  had  also  been  some  cures  of  which  the  pri- 
vate secretary  gave  vague  and  rambling  descrip- 
tions. 

M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin  listened  uncompre- 
hendingly.  The  mere  idea  of  the  Deniseau  girl 
saddened  and  worried  him.     The  influence  of  this 


112    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

visionary  over  the  townsfolk  at  large  was  beyond 
his  understanding.  He  was  afraid  of  using  his 
abilities  ineffectively  in  a  psychic  case  such  as  this. 
This  fear  paralysed  his  reason,  although  it  was 
strong  enough  in  ordinary  circumstances.  As  he 
listened  to  Lacarelle,  he  experienced  a  dread 
of  being  convinced,  and  instinctively  exclaimed 
brusquely : 

"I  don't  believe  in  such  things  as  these !  I  don't 
believe  in  them !" 

But  doubt  and  anxiety  overwhelmed  him.  He 
wished  to  know  what  Abbe  Guitrel,  whom  he  re- 
garded as  both  learned  and  intelligent,  thought  on 
the  subject  of  this  prophetess.  It  was  just  the  time 
when  he  would  meet  the  abbe  at  the  goldsmith's 
house.  He  went  to  Rondonneau  junior's,  and 
found  him  in  the  inner  room,  nailing  up  a  case, 
whilst  Abbe  Guitrel  examined  a  silver-gilt  vase  set 
on  a  long  stem  and  surmounted  with  a  rounded 
lid. 

"That's  a  fine  chalice,  isn't  it,  monsieur  I'abbe?" 

"It  is  a  pyx,  monsieur  le  prefet,  a  ciborium,  a 
vessel  intended  ad  ferendos  ethos*  In  fact,  the 
pyx  holds  the  sacred  hosts,  the  food  of  the  soul. 
Formerly  they  used  to  keep  the  pyx  in  a  silver  dove 
hung  over  the  baptismal  font,  the  altar,  or  the  tomb 
of  a  martyr.  This  one  is  decorated  in  the  style  of 
the  thirteenth  century.     An  austere  and  magnificent 

♦To  bear  the  bread. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     113 

style,  very  suitable,  monsieur  le  prefet,  for  church 
furniture,  and  especially  for  the  sacred  vessels." 

M.  Worms-Clavelin  was  not  listening  to  the 
priest,  whose  restless,  crafty  profile  he  was  observ- 
ing. "Here  is  the  man,"  thought  he,  "who  is  go- 
ing to  tell  me  about  Saint  Radegonde  and  the  proph- 
etess." And  the  departmental  representative  of 
the  Republic  was  already  screwing  up  his  courage, 
concentrating  his  energies,  lest  he  should  appear 
weak-minded,  superstitious  and  credulous,  before 
an  ecclesiastic. 

"Yes,  monsieur  le  prefet"  said  Abbe  Guitrel, 
"our  worthy  M.  Rondonneau  junior  has  executed 
this  beautiful  specimen  of  goldsmith's  work  after 
ancient  models.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  they 
could  not  have  done  better  in  the  Place  Saint-Sul- 
pice,  in  Paris,  where  the  best  goldsmiths  are  to  be 
found." 

"A  propos,  monsieur  I'abbe,  what  is  your  opinion 
of  the  prophetess  whom  our  town  possesses?" 

"What  prophetess,  monsieur  le  prefet?  Do  you 
mean  that  poor  girl  who  pretends  to  be  in  commu- 
nication with  Saint  Radegonde,  queen  of  France? 
Alas!  monsieur,  it  cannot  possibly  be  the  pious 
spouse  of  Clotaire  who  suggests  to  that  miserable 
girl  sorry  nonsense  of  every  kind  and  rhapsodies 
which,  being  irreconcilable  with  good  sense,  are  still 
less  to  be  reconciled  with  theology.  Foolery,  mon- 
sieur le  prefet,  mere  foolery!" 


114    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

M.  Worms-Clavelin,  who  had  prepared  some 
subtle  jests  concerning  priestly  credulity,  remained 
silent. 

"No,  indeed,"  continued  M.  Guitrel,  with  a  smile, 
"it  is  incredible  that  Saint  Radegonde  should  sug- 
gest this  trash,  this  folly,  all  these  silly,  empty, 
sometimes  heterodox,  speeches  that  fall  from  the 
lips  of  this  young  maiden.  The  voice  of  the  sainted 
Radegonde  would  have  another  accent,  believe  me." 

M.  LE  prefet:  "Very  little  is  known,  in  fact, 
about  this  Saint  Radegonde." 

M.  GUITREL:  "You  mistake,  monsieur  le  prefet, 
you  mistake !  Saint  Radegonde,  reverenced  by  the 
whole  Catholic  Church,  is  the  object  of  special  wor- 
ship in  the  diocese  of  Poitiers,  which  was  formerly 
witness  of  her  merits." 

M.  LE  PREFET:  "Yes,  as  you  say,  monsieur 
I'abbe,  there  is  a  special  .  .  ." 

M.  GUITREL:  "Even  atheists  themselves  have 
regarded  this  great  figure  with  admiration.  What 
a  sublime  picture,  monsieur  le  prefet!  After  the 
murder  of  her  brother  by  her  husband,  Clotaire's 
noble  spouse  betakes  herself  to  Bishop  Medard  at 
Noyon,  and  urges  him  to  dedicate  her  to  God. 
Taken  by  surprise.  Saint  Medard  hesitates;  he 
urges  the  indissolubility  of  marriage.  But  Rade- 
gonde herself  covers  her  head  with  the  veil  of  a 
recluse,  and  flings  herself  at  the  feet  of  the  pontiff, 
who,   overcome  by  the  saintly  persistence  of  the 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     115 

queen,  and  braving  the  wrath  of  the  savage  mon- 
arch, offers  this  blessed  victim  to  God." 

M.  LE  PREFET:  "But,  monsieur  I'abbe,  do  you 
approve  of  a  bishop  defying  the  civil  powers  in  that 
fashion  and  abetting  the  wife  of  his  overlord  in  her 
revolt?  The  deuce!  if  these  are  your  opinions,  I 
shall  be  grateful  to  you  for  telling  me  so." 

M.  GUITREL:  "Alas  I  monsieur  le  prefet,  I  have 
not,  as  the  blessed  Medard  had,  the  illumination  of 
sanctity  to  enable  me  to  discern  the  will  of  God  in 
extraordinary  circumstances.  Luckily  nowadays 
the  rules  which  a  bishop  should  follow  with  regard 
to  the  civil  powers  are  definitely  defined.  And 
monsieur  le  prefet  will  kindly  remember,  in  speak- 
ing of  me  for  the  bishopric  of  Tourcoing  to  his 
friends  in  the  ministry,  that  I  recognise  all  the  obli- 
gations that  follow  from  the  Concordat.  But  why 
intrude  my  humble  personality  in  these  great  scenes 
of  history?  Saint  Radegonde,  clothed  in  the  veil 
of  a  deaconess,  founded  the  monastery  of  Sainte- 
Croix  in  Poitiers,  where  she  lived  for  more  than 
fifty  years  in  the  practice  of  a  rigorous  asceticism. 
She  observed  fasts  and  abstinences  with  such  scrupu- 
lousness .  .  ." 

M.  LE  prefet:  "Keep  these  stories  of  yours, 
monsieur  I'abbe,  for  your  seminarists.  You  don't 
believe  that  Saint  Radegonde  communicates  with 
Mademoiselle  Deniseau.  I  congratulate  you  on 
that.     And  I  could  wish  that  all  the  priests  in  the 


ii6    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

department  were  as  reasonable  as  you.  But  it  only 
needs  this  hysteric  patient — for  hysteric  she  is — to 
attack  the  government  for  all  the  cures  to  come  in 
herds  to  listen,  open-mouthed  and  applauding,  to  all 
the  insults  she  spits  out." 

M.  GUITREL:  "Oh!  they  make  reservations, 
monsieur  le  prefet,  they  make  reservations.  The 
Church  instructs  them  to  be  extremely  wary  in  face 
of  every  fact  that  assumes  the  appearance  of  a 
miracle.  And  I  assure  you  that,  for  my  part,  I 
am  very  distrustful  of  modern  miracles." 

M.  LE  PREFET:  "Tell  me,  between  ourselves: 
you  don't  believe  in  miracles,  my  dear  abbe?" 

M.  GUITREL:  "In  miracles  that  are  not  duly  veri- 
fied I  have,  indeed,  but  little  belief." 

M.  LE  PR^FET:  "We  are  alone.  Confess,  now, 
that  there  are  no  miracles,  that  there  never  have 
been  any,  and  that  there  never  can  possibly  be 
any." 

M.  GUITREL :  "Not  at  all,  monsieur  le  prefet.  A 
miracle  is  possible;  it  can  be  unmistakably  recog- 
nised; it  is  useful  for  the  confirmation  of  doctrine; 
and  its  utility  is  proved  by  the  conversion  of 
nations." 

M.  LE  prefet:  "Anyhow,  you  grant  that  it  is 
ridiculous  to  believe  that  Saint  Radegonde,  who 
lived  in  the  Middle  Ages  .  .  ." 

M.  GUITREL:  "In  the  sixth  century,  in  the  sixth 
century." 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     117 

M.  LE  prefet:  "Exactly,  in  the  sixth  century 
.  .  .  .  should  come  in  189—  to  gossip  with 
the  daughter  of  a  registry-keeper  on  the  po- 
litical programme  of  the  ministry  and  the  Cham- 
bers." 

M.  guitrel:  "Communications  between  the 
Church  triumphant  and  the  Church  militant  are 
possible;  history  supplies  numberless  undeniable 
instances  of  it.  But,  yet  again,  I  do  not  believe 
that  the  young  person  of  whom  we  are  speaking  is 
favoured  with  a  communication  of  this  kind.  Her 
sayings,  if  I  may  dare  to  say  so,  do  not  bear  the 
hall-mark  of  a  celestial  revelation.  Everything  she 
says  is  somehow  .  .  ." 

M.  LE  prefet:     "Humbug." 

M.  guitrel:  "If  you  like.  .  .  .  Though,  in- 
deed, it  might  be  quite  possible  that  she  is 
possessed." 

M.  LE  prefet  :  "What  is  this  that  you  are  say- 
ing? You,  an  intelligent  priest,  a  future  bishop  of 
the  Republic,  you  believe  in  possession!  It  is  a 
mediaeval  superstition!  I  have  read  a  book  by 
Michelet  on  it." 

M.  guitrel:  "But,  monsieur  le  prefet,  posses- 
sion is  a  fact  recognised  not  only  by  theologians,  but 
also  by  scientists,  atheists  for  the  most  part.  And 
Michelet  himself,  whom  you  quote,  believed  in  the 
cases  of  possession  at  Loudun." 

M.  LE  PREFET:    "What  notions !    You  arc  all  the 


ii8     THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

same !     And  if  Claudine  Deniseau  were  possessed, 
as  you  say?  .  .  ." 

M.  GUITREL:  "Then  it  would  be  necessary  to 
exorcise  her." 

M.  LE  PREFET:  "Exorcise  her?  Don't  you 
think,  monsieur  I'abbe,  that  that  would  be  absurd?" 

M.  GUITREL:  "Not  at  all,  monsieur  le  prefet, 
not  at  all." 

M.  LE  PREFET:     "What  does  one  do?" 

M.  GUITREL:  "There  are  rules,  monsieur  le 
prefet,  a.  formulary,  a  ritual  for  this  kind  of  opera- 
tion, which  has  never  ceased  to  be  used.  Jeanne 
d'Arc  herself  had  to  undergo  it,  in  the  town  of  Van- 
couleurs,  unless  I  mistake.  M.  Laprune,  the 
cure  of  Saint-Exupere,  would  be  the  right  person 
to  exorcise  this  Deniseau  girl,  who  is  one  of  his 
parishioners.  He  is  a  very  venerable  priest.  It 
is  true  that,  as  regards  the  Deniseau  family,  he  Is 
in  a  position  which  may  react  on  his  character,  and, 
to  a  certain  extent,  influence  a  wise  and  cautious 
mind,  as  yet  unenfeebled  by  age,  or  which  at  any 
rate  still  seems  able  to  bear  the  weight  of  years  and 
the  fatigues  of  a  long  and  onerous  ministry.  I 
mean  to  say  that  events,  regarded  by  some  as 
miracles,  have  taken  place  in  the  parish  of  this 
worthy  cure;  and  M.  Laprune's  zeal  must  needs 
have  been  led  into  error  by  the  thought  that 
the  parish  of  Saint-Exupere  may  have  been 
privileged  to  such  a  degree  that  a  manifestation  of 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     119 

divine  power  has  taken  place  in  it,  in  preference  to 
all  the  other  parishes  in  our  town.  Buoyed  up  by 
such  a  hope,  he  has  perhaps  formed  illusions  which 
he  has  unconsciously  communicated  to  his  clergy. 
An  error  and  a  mistake  which  one  can  excuse,  if  one 
considers  the  circumstances.  Indeed,  what  bless- 
ings would  not  a  new  miracle  shed  on  the  parish 
church  of  Saint-Exupere !  The  zeal  of  the  faithful 
would  be  revived  by  it,  an  outpouring  of  gifts  would 
bring  wealth  into  the  famous,  but  clean-stripped, 
walls  of  the  ancient  church.  And  the  favour  of 
the  Cardinal-Archbishop  would  solace  the  last  days 
of  M.  Laprune,  now  arrived  at  the  end  of  his 
ministry  and  strength." 

M.  LE  prefet:  "But  if  I  understand  you 
rightly,  monsieur  I'abbe,  it  is  this  doddering  cure 
of  Saint-Exupere,  it  is  M.  Laprune,  with  his 
vicaires,  who  has  got  up  the  affair  of  the 
Prophetess.  Undoubtedly  the  priests  are  strong. 
They  won't  believe  it  in  Paris,  in  the  bureaux,  but 
it  is  the  truth.  The  priests  are  a  fine  power  1 
Here  your  old  Laprune  has  been  organising  these 
seances  of  clerical  spiritualism  which  all  the  town 
attends  in  order  to  hear  the  Parliament,  the 
presidency,  and  myself  insulted — for  I  am  perfectly 
aware  that  they  don't  spare  me  in  these  conventicles 
of  the  Place  Saint-Exupere." 

M.  GUITREL :  "Oh !  monsieur  le  prefet,  far  be  it 
from  me  to  think  of  suspecting  the  worthy  cure  of 


120    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

Saint-Exupere  of  having  concocted  a  plot !  On  the 
contrary,  I  sincerely  believe  that,  if  he  has  in  any 
way  encouraged  this  unhappy  affair,  he  will  soon 
recognise  his  error,  and  will  use  all  his  influence  to 
efface  the  results  of  it.  .  .  .  But  even  in  his  in- 
terest and  in  that  of  the  diocese,  one  might  forestall 
him  and  inform  His  Eminence  of  the  real  facts,  of 
which  he  is  perhaps  still  ignorant.  Once  warned 
of  these  disorders,  he  will  doubtless  put  an  end  to 
them." 

M.  LE  prefet:  "That's  an  idea!  .  .  .  My  dear 
abbe,  are  you  willing  to  undertake  the  commission? 
For  my  part,  as  prefet,  I  am  obliged  to  ignore  the 
fact  that  there  is  an  Archbishop,  save  in  cases  pro- 
vided for  by  the  law,  such  as  bells  and  processions. 
When  one  thinks  of  it,  it  is  an  absurd  situation,  for 
from  the  moment  that  Archbishops  have  an  actual 
existence  .  .  .  But  politics  have  their  necessities. 
Tell  me  frankly.  Are  you  in  favour  at  the  Arch- 
bishop's palace?" 

M.  GUITREL:  "His  Eminence  sometimes  deigns 
to  listen  to  me  with  kindness.  The  affability  of 
His  Eminence  is  extreme." 

M.  LE  PREFET:  "Well!  tell  him  that  it  is  in- 
admissible for  Saint  Radegonde  to  come  to  life 
again  in  order  to  plague  the  senators,  the  deputies, 
and  the  prefet  of  the  department,  and  that,  in  the 
interests  of  the  Church  as  well  as  of  the  Republic, 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     121 

it  is  time  to  bridle  the  tongue  of  the  fierce  Clotaire's 
spouse.     Just  tell  His  Eminence  that." 

M.  GUITREL:  "Substantially,  monsieur  le  prefet; 
substantially  I  will  tell  him  that." 

M.  LE  prefet:  "Set  about  it  as  you  like,  mon- 
sieur I'abbe,  but  prove  to  him  that  he  must  forbid 
his  priests  to  enter  the  Deniseau  house,  that  he 
must  openly  reprimand  the  cure  Laprune,  condemn 
in  la  Semaine  religieuse  the  speeches  made  by  this 
mad  woman,  and  officially  request  the  editors  of  le 
Liberal  to  cease  the  campaign  they  are  waging  in 
support  of  a  miracle  both  unconstitutional  and  con- 
trary to  the  Concordat." 

M.  GUITREL:  "I  will  try  it,  monsieur  le  prefet. 
Certainly,  I  will  try  it.  But  what  am  I,  a  poor 
professor  of  sacred  rhetoric,  before  His  Eminence 
the  Cardinal-Archbishop?" 

M.  LE  PREFET :  "He  is  intelligent,  is  your  Arch- 
bishop; he  will  understand  that  his  own  interests, 
and  the  honour  of  Saint  Radegonde,  by  the 
Lordl  .  .  ." 

M.  GUITREL:  "Doubtless,  monsieur  le  prefet, 
doubtless.  But  His  Eminence,  so  devoted  to  the 
spiritual  interests  of  the  diocese,  perhaps  considers 
that  the  prodigious  crowd  of  souls  around  this  poor 
girl  is  a  token  of  that  yearning  after  belief  which 
torments  the  younger  generation,  a  proof  that  faith 
is   more  living  than  ever  among  the  masses,   an 


122    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

example,  in  fact,  which  it  would  be  well  to  present 
to  the  consideration  of  statesmen.  And  it  is 
possible  that,  thinking  thus,  he  may  be  in  no  hurry 
to  cause  the  sign  to  cease,  to  suppress  the  proof  and 
the  example.     It  is  possible  .  .  ." 

M.  LE  PREFET:  "...  that  he  may  make  fun 
of  everybody.     He  is  quite  capable  of  it." 

M.  GUITREL:  "Oh!  monsieur  le  prefet,  there  is 
no  foundation  for  that  assumption!  But  how 
much  easier  and  more  certain  would  my  mission  be, 
if,  like  the  dove  from  the  ark,  I  were  the  bearer  of 
an  olive  branch,  if  I  were  authorised  to  say — oh! 
just  in  a  whisper ! — to  Monseigneur,  that  the  salary 
of  the  seven  poor  cures  of  the  diocese,  suspended  by 
the  former  Minister  of  Religion,  was  restored!" 

M.  LE  prefet:  "Give,  give,  that's  it,  isn't  it? 
I  will  think  it  over.  ...  I  will  telegraph  to  Paris, 
and  I  will  bring  you  the  answer  at  Rondonneau  jun- 
ior's.    Good  evening,  monsieur  le  diplomate!" 

A  week  after  the  day  of  this  secret  conference 
Abbe  Guitrel  had  successfully  accomplished  his 
mission.  The  prophetess  of  the  Place  Saint- 
Exupcre,  disowned  by  the  archbishopric,  abandoned 
by  the  clergy,  abjured  by  le  Liberal,  kept  on  her  side 
none  save  the  two  corresponding  members  of  the 
academy  of  psychical  research,  one  of  whom  re- 
garded her  as  a  subject  worthy  of  study  and  the 
other  as  a  dangerous  charlatan.     Freed  from  this 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     123 

mad  woman,  and  delighted  at  the  municipal  elec- 
tions, which  had  brought  forth  neither  new  mea- 
sures nor  new  men,  M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin 
rejoiced  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart. 


XII 


PAILLOT  was  the  bookseller  at  the 
corner  of  the  Place  Saint-Exupere 
and  the  Rue  des  Tintellerles.  For 
the  most  part  the  houses  which  sur- 
rounded this  square  were  ancient; 
those  that  leant  against  the  church  bore  carved  and 
painted  signboards.  Several  had  a  pointed  gable 
and  a  wooden  frontage.  One  of  these,  which  had 
kept  its  carved  beams,  was  a  gem  admired  by  con- 
noisseurs. The  main  joists  were  upheld  by  carved 
corbels,  some  in  the  shape  of  angels  bearing  shields, 
the  others  in  the  form  of  monks  crouching  low. 
To  the  left  of  the  door,  against  a  post,  rose  the 
mutilated  figure  of  a  woman,  her  brow  encircled  by 
a  floreated  crown.  The  townsfolk  declared  that 
this  was  Queen  Marguerite.  And  the  building  was 
known  by  the  name  of  Queen  Marguerite's  house. 
It  was  believed,  on  the  authority  of  Dom  Maur- 
ice, author  of  a  Tresor  d'antiquites,  printed  in  1703, 
that  Margaret  of  Scotland  lodged  in  this  house  for 
several  months  of  the  year  1438.  But  M.  de 
Terremondre,  president  of  the  Society  of  Agri- 
culture and  Archaeology,  proves  in  a  substantially 
constructed  memoir  that   this  house  was  built   in 

1488  for  a  prominent  citizen  named  Philippe  Tri- 

124 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      125 

couillard.  The  archaeologists  of  the  town,  when- 
ever they  conduct  sightseers  to  the  front  of  this 
building,  seizing  a  moment  when  the  ladies  are 
inattentive,  take  pleasure  in  showing  the  canting 
arms  of  Philippe  Tricouillard,  carved  on  a  shield 
held  by  two  angels.  These  arms,  which  M.  de 
Terremondre  has  judiciously  compared  with  those 
of  the  Coleoni  of  Bergamo,  are  represented  on  the 
corbel  which  stands  over  the  doorway,  under  the 
left  lintel.  The  figures  on  it  are  very  shadowy, 
and  are  only  recognisable  by  those  who  have  them 
pointed  out.  As  for  the  figure  of  a  woman  wearing 
a  crown,  which  leans  against  the  perpendicular 
joist,  M.  de  Terremondre  found  no  difficulty  in 
proving  that  it  must  be  regarded  as  a  Saint  Mar- 
guerite. In  fact,  there  may  still  be  made  out  at  the 
feet  of  the  saint  the  remains  of  a  hideous  shape 
which  is  none  other  than  that  of  the  devil;  and  the 
right  arm  of  the  principal  figure,  which  is  lacking 
to-day,  ought  to  hold  the  holy-water  sprinkler  which 
the  blessed  saint  shook  over  the  enemy  of  the  hu- 
man race.  It  is  clear  what  Saint  Marguerite 
typifies  in  this  place,  now  that  M.  Mazure,  the 
archivist  of  the  department,  has  brought  to  light  a 
document  proving  that  in  the  year  1488  Philippe 
Tricouillard,  then  about  seventy  years  of  age, 
had  lately  married  Marguerite  Larrivee,  daughter 
of  a  magistrate.  By  a  confusion  which  is  not  very 
surprising.  Marguerite  Larrivee's  celestial  patron 


126    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

was  taken  for  the  young  princess  of  Scotland 
whose  sojourn  in  the  town  of  .  .  .  has  left  a  deep 
impression.  Few  ladies  have  bequeathed  a  mem- 
ory more  full  of  pity  than  that  princess  who  died  at 
twenty  with  this  last  sigh  on  her  lips :  "Out  upon 
thee,  life!" 

The  house  of  M.  Paillot,  the  bookseller,  joins  on 
to  Queen  Marguerite's  house.  Originally  it  was 
built,  like  its  neighbour,  with  a  wooden  front,  and 
the  visible  timber-work  was  no  less  carefully  carved. 
But,  in  i860,  M.  Paillot's  father,  bookseller  to  the 
Archbishopric,  had  it  pulled  down  in  order  to  re- 
build it  simply,  in  the  modern  style,  without  any 
pretence  at  wealth  or  art,  merely  taking  care  to 
make  it  convenient  as  a  dwelling-house  and  place  of 
business.  A  tree  of  Jesse,  in  Renaissance  style, 
which  covered  the  entire  front  of  Paillot's  house, 
at  the  corner  formed  by  the  Place  Saint-Exupere 
and  the  Rue  des  Tintelleries,  was  torn  down  with 
the  rest,  but  not  destroyed.  M.  de  Terremondre, 
coming  upon  it  afterwards  in  a  timber-merchant's 
yard,  purchased  it  for  the  museum.  This  monu- 
ment is  in  good  style.  Unfortunately  the  prophets 
and  patriarchs,  who  cluster  on  each  branch  like  mar- 
vellous fruits,  and  the  Virgin,  blossoming  on  the 
summit  of  the  prophetic  tree,  were  mutilated  by  the 
Terrorists  in  1793,  and  the  tree  suffered  fresh  dam- 
age in  i860,  when  it  was  carried  to  the  timber-yard 
as  firewood.     M.  Quatrebarbe,  the  diocesan  archi- 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     127 

tect,  expatiates  on  these  mutilations  in  his  interest- 
ing pamphlet  on  Les  Vandales  modernes.  "One 
shudders,"  says  he,  "at  the  thought  that  this  pre- 
cious relic  of  an  age  of  faith  ran  the  risk  of  being 
sawn  up  and  burnt  before  our  very  eyes." 

This  sentiment,  being  expressed  by  a  man  whose 
clerical  tendencies  were  well  known,  was  trenchantly 
criticised  by  le  Phare  in  an  anonymous  paragraph  in 
which  was  recognised,  rightly  or  wrongly,  the  hand 
of  the  archivist  of  the  department,  M.  Mazure. 
"In  twenty  words,"  said  this  paragraph,  "the 
architect  of  the  diocese  supplies  us  with  several 
occasions  for  surprise.  The  first  is  that  any  one 
should  be  able  to  shudder  at  the  mere  idea  of  the 
loss  of  an  indifferently  carved  beam,  and  one  so 
much  mutilated  that  the  details  are  not  recognis- 
able; the  second  is  that  this  beam  should  stand  to 
M.  Quatrebarbe,  whose  creed  is  well  known,  as  a 
relic  of  an  age  of  faith,  since  it  dates  from  1530— 
that  is  to  say,  from  the  year  when  the  Protestant 
Diet  of  Augsburg  assembled;  the  third  is  that  M. 
Quatrebarbe  should  omit  to  say  that  the  precious 
beam  was  torn  down  and  sent  to  the  timber-yard 
by  his  own  father-in-law,  M.  Nicolet,  the  diocesan 
architect,  who,  in  i860,  transformed  the  Paillot 
house  in  the  way  which  one  can  now  see ;  the  fourth 
is  that  M.  Quatrebarbe  ignores  the  fact  that  it  was 
none  other  than  M.  Mazure,  the  archivist,  who 
dicovered  the  carved  beam  in  Clouzot's  wood-yard, 


128    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

where  it  had  been  rotting  for  ten  years  under  M. 
Quatrebarbe's  very  nose,  and  who  pointed  it  out  to 
M.  de  Terremondre,  president  of  the  Society  of 
Agriculture  and  Archaeology,  who  purchased  it  for 
the  museum." 

In  its  actual  condition  the  house  of  M.  Paillot, 
the  bookseller,  showed  a  uniform  white  frontage, 
three  storeys  in  height.  The  shop,  ornamented 
with  woodwork  painted  green,  bore,  in  letters  of 
gold,  the  words,  "Paillot,  libraire."  The  shop- 
window  displayed  terrestrial  and  celestial  globes  of 
different  diameters,  boxes  of  mathematical  in- 
struments, school  books  and  little  text-books  for  the 
officers  of  the  garrison,  with  a  few  novels  and  new 
memoirs:  these  were  what  M.  Paillot  called  works 
of  literature.  A  window,  narrower  and  not  so 
deep,  that  gave  on  the  Rue  des  Tintelleries,  con- 
tained works  on  agriculture  and  law,  and  thus  com- 
pleted the  supply  of  instruments  required  by  the 
intellectual  life  of  the  county  town.  On  a  counter 
inside  the  shop  were  to  be  found  works  on  litera- 
ture, novels,  essays,  and  memoirs. 

"Classics  in  sets"  were  stacked  in  pigeon-holes, 
and  quite  at  the  bottom,  by  the  side  of  the  door 
which  opened  on  the  staircase,  some  shelves  were 
reserved  for  old  books.  For  M.  Paillot  combined 
in  his  shop  the  business  of  a  new  and  second-hand 
bookseller.  This  dark  corner  of  the  old  books 
attracted    the    bibliophiles    of    the    district,    who 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     129 

in  days  gone  by  had  found  treasure-trove  there. 
A  certain  copy  of  the  first  edition  of  the  third  book 
of  Pantagruel  was  recalled,  unearthed  in  excellent 
condition  in  1871  by  M.  de  Terremondre,  father 
of  the  present  president  of  the  Agricultural  Society, 
at  Paillot's,  in  the  old-book  corner.  There  was 
still  more  mysterious  talk  of  a  Mellin  de 
Saint-Gelais,  containing  on  the  back  of  the  title- 
page  some  autograph  verses  by  Marie  Stuart,  that 
M.  Dutilleul,  the  notary,  had  found,  about  the 
same  time,  and  in  the  same  place,  and  for  which 
he  paid  three  francs.  But,  since  then,  no  one  had 
announced  any  marvellous  discovery.  The  gloomy, 
monotonous  corner  of  the  old  books  scarcely 
changed.  There  was  always  to  be  seen  there 
VAhrege  de  VHistoire  des  Voyages,  in  fifty- six 
volumes,  and  the  odd  volumes  of  Kehl's  Voltaire, 
in  large  paper.  M.  Dutilleul's  discovery,  doubted 
by  many,  was  by  some  openly  denied.  They 
based  their  opinion  on  the  idea  that  the  old 
notary  was  quite  capable  of  having  lied  through 
vanity,  and  on  the  fact  that  after  M.  Dutilleul's 
death  no  copy  of  the  poems  of  Mellin  de  Samt- 
Gelais  was  found  in  his  library.  Yet  the  bib- 
liophiles of  the  town,  who  frequented  Paillot's 
shop,  never  failed  to  explore  the  old-book  corner,  at 
least  once  a  month.  M.  de  Terremondre  was  one 
of  the  most  assiduous  visitors. 

He  was  a  large  landed  proprietor  in  the  depart- 


I30    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

ment,  well  connected,  a  breeder  of  cattle  and  a 
connoisseur  in  artistic  matters.  He  it  was  who 
designed  the  historic  costumes  for  processions  and 
who  presided  over  the  committee  formed  for  the 
erection  of  a  statue  of  Jeanne  d'Arc  on  the  ram- 
parts. He  spent  four  months  of  the  year  in  Paris, 
and  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  man  of  gallantry. 
At  fifty  he  preserved  a  slim  and  elegant  figure.  He 
was  very  popular  with  all  three  classes  In  the 
county  town,  and  they  had  several  times  offered  him 
the  position  of  deputy.  This  he  had  refused,  de- 
claring that  his  leisure,  as  well  as  his  independence, 
was  dear  to  him.  And  people  were  curious  about 
the  reasons  for  his  refusal. 

M.  de  Terremondre  had  thought  of  buying 
Queen  Marguerite's  house  in  order  to  turn  it  into 
a  museum  of  local  archaeology  and  offer  it  to  the 
town.  But  Madame  Houssieu,  the  widowed  owner 
of  this  house,  had  not  responded  to  the  overtures 
which  he  had  made  to  her.  Now  more  than  eighty 
years  of  age,  she  lived  in  the  old  house,  alone,  save 
for  a  dozen  cats.  She  was  supposed  to  be  rich  and 
miserly.  All  that  could  be  done  was  to  wait  for 
her  death.  Every  time  that  he  entered  Paillot's 
shop,  M.  de  Terremondre  asked  the  bookseller: 

"Is  Queen  Marguerite  still  in  the  land  of  the 
living?" 

And  M.  Paillot  replied  that  assuredly  one  morn- 
ing she  would  be  found  dead  in  her  bed,  living  shut 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     131 

up  alone  at  her  age.  Meanwhile,  he  dreaded  her 
setting  his  house  on  fire.  This  was  her  neighbour's 
constant  fear.  He  lived  in  terror  lest  the  old  lady 
should  burn  down  her  wooden  house  and  his  along 
with  it. 

Madame  Houssieu  interested  M.  de  Terre- 
mondre  greatly.  He  was  inquisitive  about  all  that 
Queen  Marguerite,  as  he  called  her,  said  and  did. 
At  the  last  visit  which  he  had  paid  to  her,  she  had 
shown  him  a  bad  Restoration  engraving  repre- 
senting the  Duchess  of  Angouleme  pressing  to  her 
heart  the  portraits  of  Louis  XVL  and  Marie 
Antoinette  enclosed  in  a  medallion.  This  en- 
graving, set  in  a  black  frame,  hung  in  the  ground- 
floor  sitting-room.  Showing  it  to  him,  Madame 
Houssieu  said: 

"That's  the  portrait  of  Queen  Marguerite,  who 
long  ago  lived  in  this  house." 

And  M.  de  Terremondre  asked  himself  how  a 
portrait  of  Marie-Therese-Charlotte  of  France 
had,  even  by  the  dullest  of  minds,  been  taken  for  a 
portrait  of  Margaret  of  Scotland.  He  meditated 
on  it  for  a  month. 

Then  one  day  he  exclaimed,  as  he  entered 
Paillot's  shop: 

"I've  got  it  1" 

And  he  explained  to  his  friend  the  bookseller  the 
very  plausible  reasons  for  this  extraordinary  con- 
fusion. 


132    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

"Listen  to  me,  Paillot!  Margaret  of  Scotland, 
mistaken  for  Marguerite  Larrivee,  is  confused  with 
Marguerite  of  Valois,  Duchess  of  Angouleme,  and 
this  princess  is,  in  her  turn,  confused  with  the 
Duchess  of  Angouleme,  daughter  of  Louis  XVL 
and  Marie-Antoinette,  Marguerite  Larrivee — 
Margaret  of  Scotland — Marguerite,  Duchess  of 
Angouleme — the  Duchess  of  Angouleme. 

"I  am  rather  proud  of  having  found  that  out, 
Paillot.  Tradition  should  always  be  taken  into 
account.  But  when  we  own  Queen  Marguerite's 
house,  we  will  furbish  up  the  memory  of  that  good 
Philippe  Tricouillard  a  little." 

Hard  upon  this  declaration  Dr.  Fomerol  entered 
the  shop  with  the  wonted  impetuosity  of  that 
indefatigable  visitor  of  the  sick,  who  brought  with 
him  hope  and  comfort.  Gustave  Fornerol  was  a 
fat,  moustachioed  man.  Possessed  in  his  wife's 
right  of  a  small  country  estate,  he  affected  the 
fashions  of  a  country  proprietor  and  paid  his  visits 
in  a  soft  hat,  a  hunting  waistcoat  and  leather 
leggings.  Although  his  practice  was  exclusively 
among  the  lower  middle  class  and  the  rural  popula- 
tion of  the  suburbs,  he  was  considered  the  most 
skilful  practitioner  in  the  town. 

Friendly  with  Paillot,  as  with  all  his  fellow- 
townsmen,  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  paying  useless 
visits  to  him,  nor  of  wasting  his  time  gossiping  in 
the  shop.     This  time,  however,  he  sank  down  on 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     133 

one  of  the  three  rush-bottomed  chairs  which,  set  in 
the  old-book  corner,  had  gained  for  Paillot's  shop 
the  reputation  for  a  hospitality  at  once  literary, 
learned,  cultured,  and  academic. 

He  puffed,  waved  a  good-day  to  Paillot  with  his 
hand,  bowed  with  some  deference  to  M.  de  Terre- 
mondre,  and  said: 

"I  am  tired.  .  .  .  Well!  Paillot,  were  you 
pleased  with  the  show  yesterday?  What  did 
Madame  Paillot  think  of  the  play  and  the  actors?" 

The  bookseller  did  not  commit  himself.  He 
considered  that  it  is  wise  for  a  tradesman  to  express 
no  opinions  in  his  shop.  Besides,  he  went  to  the 
theatre«only  en  famille,  and  that  but  seldom.  But 
Dr.  Fornerol,  whose  position  as  medical  officer  to 
the  theatre  procured  him  free  passes,  never  missed 
a  performance. 

A  travelling  company  had  given  la  Marechale 
the  night  before,  with  Pauline  Giry  in  the  leading 
part. 

"She  is  always  capital,  is  Pauline  Giry,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"That's  the  general  opinion,"  said  the  book- 
seller. 

"She  isn't  as  young  as  she  once  was,"  said  M.  de 
Terremondre,  who  was  turning  over  the  leaves  of 
volume  xxxviii.  of  VHistoire  Generale  des  Voyages. 

"By  Jove,  no!"  answered  the  doctor.  "You 
know  that  Giry  isn't  her  real  name?" 


134    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

"Her  real  name  is  Girou,"  answered  M.  de 
Terremondre  authoritatively.  "I  knew  her  mother, 
Clemence  Girou.  Fifteen  years  ago  Pauline  Giry 
was  dark  and  very  pretty." 

And  the  three  of  them,  in  the  old-book  corner,  set 
to  work  to  reckon  the  actress's  age.  But  as  they 
were  calculating  from  doubtful  or  incorrect  data, 
they  only  reached  contradictory,  or  sometimes  even 
absurd,  conclusions,  and  with  these  they  were  by  no 
means  satisfied. 

"I  am  worn  out,"  said  the  doctor.  "You  all 
went  to  bed  after  the  theatre.  But  I  was  called  up 
at  midnight  to  go  to  an  old  farmer  on  Duroc  hill, 
who  was  suffering  from  strangulated  hernia.  Says 
his  man  to  me :  'He  has  brought  up  everything  he 
can.  He  harps  on  one  note.  He  Is  going  to  die.' 
I  have  the  horse  put  In  and  I  spin  out  to  Duroc  hill, 
over  yonder,  right  at  the  end  of  the  Faubourg  de 
Tramayes.  I  find  my  man  a-bed  and  howling. 
Corpse-like  face,  stercoraceous  vomiting.  Very 
goodl  His  wife  says  to  me:  'It's  in  his  Inside 
that  It  takes  him.'  " 

"She's  forty-seven,  is  Pauline  Giry,"  said  M.  de 
Terremondre. 

"It's  quite  possible,"  said  Palllot. 

"At  least  forty-seven,"  answered  the  doctor. 
"Double  hernia,  and  dangerous  it  was.  Very 
goodl  I  proceed  to  reduce  it  by  hand-pressure. 
Although  it  is  only  necessary  to  exercise  a  very  faint 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     135 

pressure  with  the  hand,  after  thirty  minutes  of  this 
business,  one's  arms  and  back  are  broken.  And  it 
was  only  at  the  end  of  five  hours,  at  the  tenth  repeti- 
tion, that  I  was  able  to  effect  the  reduction." 

At  this  point  in  the  narrative  recounted  by  Dr. 
Fornerol,  Paillot  the  bookseller  went  to  serve  some 
ladies  who  asked  for  some  interesting  books  to  read 
in  the  country.  And  the  doctor,  addressing  himself 
to  M.  de  Terremondre  alone,  continued : 

"I  was  one  ache.  I  say  to  my  man:  'You  must 
keep  to  your  bed,  and,  if  possible,  you  must  remain 
lying  on  your  back,  until  the  truss-maker  has  made 
a  truss  for  you  according  to  my  directions.  Lie 
stretched  out,  or  look  out  for  strangulation.  And 
you  know  whether  that's  nice !  Without  counting 
that  one  day  or  another  it'll  carry  you  off.  You 
understand?' 
"  'Yes,  sir.' 
"  'Very  good.' 

"Down  I  go  to  the  yard  to  wash  myself  at  the 
pump.  You  may  imagine  that  after  this  business  I 
wanted  a  bit  of  a  wash.  I  strip  myself  to  the  waist, 
and  I  rub  myself  with  soft  soap,  for,  maybe,  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  I  dress  myself  again.  I  drink 
a  glass  of  white  wine  that  they  bring  me  in  the  yard. 
I  see  the  grey  dawn  break,  I  hear  the  lark  sing,  and 
I  go  back  to  the  sick  man's  room.  There  it  was 
dark.  I  shout  in  the  direction  of  the  bed:  'Hey? 
That's  understood,  isn't  it?    Perfect  stillness  whilst 


136     THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

waiting  for  the  new  truss.  The  one  you  have  is  no 
good  at  all.  D'you  hear?'  No  answer.  'Are 
you  asleep?'  Then  I  hear  behind  me  the  voice 
of  the  old  nurse:  'Doctor,  our  man's  no  longer  in 
the  house,'  she  tells  me.  'He  was  wearying  to  go 
out  to  his  vines.'  " 

"There  I  recognise  my  peasants,"  said  M.  de 
Terremondre. 

He  lapsed  Into  meditation  and  resumed: 

"Doctor,  Pauline  Giry  is  now  forty-nine.  She 
made  her  debut  at  the  Vaudeville  in  1876;  she  was 
then  tweny-two.     I  am  sure  of  it." 

"In  that  case,"  said  the  doctor,  "she  would  be  in 
her  forty-third  year,  since  we  are  now  in  1897." 

"It  isn't  possible,"  said  M.  de  Terremondre,  "for 
she  is  at  least  six  years  older  than  Rose  Max,  who 
has  certainly  passed  her  fortieth  year." 

"Rose  Max?  I  don't  say  no,  but  she  Is  still  a  fine 
woman,"  said  the  doctor. 

He  yawned,  stretched  himself,  and  said : 

"Getting  back  from  Duroc  hill,  at  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  I  find  two  baker's  men  in  my  hall, 
come  to  tell  me  that  their  mistress,  the  baker's  wife 
of  the  Tintelleries,  has  been  brought  to  bed." 

"But,"  asked  M.  de  Terremondre,  "did  it  require 
two  baker's  men  to  tell  you  that?" 

"They  had  sent  them  one  after  the  other,"  an- 
swered the  doctor.  "I  ask  if  the  characteristic 
symptoms  have  set  in.     They  give  me  no  answer, 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     137 

but  a  third  baker's  man  turns  up  In  his  master's  cart. 
Up  I  get  and  seat  myself  at  his  side.  We  take  half 
a  turn,  and  there  I  am  rolling  over  the  pavement  of 
the  Tintelleries." 

"I  have  it!"  exclaimed  M.  de  Terremondre,  who 
was  pursuing  his  own  thoughts.  "It  was  in  '69  that 
she  came  out  at  the  Vaudeville.  And  it  was  in  '76 
that  my  cousin  Courtrai  knew  her  .  .  .  and  was 
intimate  with  her." 

"Are  you  speaking  of  Jacques  de  Courtrai,  who 
was  a  captain  of  dragoons?" 

"No,  I  am  speaking  of  Agenor,  who  died  in 
Brazil.  .  .  .  She  has  a  son  who  left  Saint-Cyr  last 
year." 

Thus  spoke  M.  de  Terremondre,  just  as  M. 
Bergeret,  professor  of  literature  at  the  University, 
entered  the  shop. 

M.  Bergeret  held  one  of  the  three  academic 
chairs  of  the  Paillot  establishment,  and  was  the 
most  indefatigable  talker  of  the  old-book  corner. 
There,  with  a  friendly  hand,  he  used  to  turn  over 
the  leaves  of  books  old  and  books  new,  and  al- 
though he  never  bought  a  single  volume,  for  fear  of 
getting  a  wigging  for  it  from  his  wife  and  three 
daughters,  he  received  the  heartiest  welcome  from 
Paillot,  who  held  him  in  high  esteem  as  a 
reservoir,  an  alembic,  of  that  science  and  those 
belles-lettres  on  which  booksellers  live  and  flourish. 
The  old-book  corner  was  the  only  place  in  the  town 


138    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

where  M.  Bergeret  could  sit  in  utter  contentment, 
for  at  home  Madame  Bergeret  chased  him  from 
room  to  room  for  different  reasons  of  domestic 
administration;  at  the  University,  the  Dean,  in  his 
hatred,  forced  him  to  give  his  lectures  in  a  dark, 
unhealthy  cellar,  into  which  but  few  pupils 
descended,  and  all  three  classes  in  the  town  cast 
black  looks  at  him  for  having  called  Jeanne  d'Arc 
a  military  mascotte.  Now  M.  Bergeret  slipped 
into  the  old-book  corner. 

"Good-day,  gentlemen!     Anything  new?" 

"A  baby  to  the  baker's  wife  in  the  Tintelleries," 
said  the  doctor.  "I  brought  it  into  the  world  just 
twenty  minutes  ago.  I  was  going  to  tell  M.  de 
Terremondre  about  it.  And  I  may  add  that  it 
wasn't  without  difficulty." 

"This  child,"  replied  the  professor,  "hesitated  to 
be  born.  He  would  never  have  consented  to  it  if, 
being  gifted  with  understanding  and  foresight,  he 
had  known  the  destiny  of  man  on  the  earth,  and 
more  especially  in  our  town." 

"It  is  a  pretty  little  girl,"  said  the  doctor,  "a 
pretty  little  girl  with  a  raspberry  mark  under  the 
left  breast." 

The  conversation  continued  between  the  doctor 
and  M.  de  Terremondre. 

"A  pretty  little  girl,  with  a  raspberry  mark  under 
the  left  breast,  doctor?  It  would  seem  that  the 
bakeress  had  a  longing  for  raspberries  when  she 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     139 

took  off  her  corsets.  The  mere  desire  of  a  mother 
does  not  suffice  to  stamp  the  picture  of  It  on  the  off- 
spring she  bears.  It  Is  also  necessary  that  the 
longing  woman  should  touch  one  particular  part  of 
her  body.  And  the  picture  will  be  stamped  on  the 
child  In  the  corresponding  spot.  Isn't  that  the 
common  belief,  doctor?" 

"That  Is  what  old  women  believe,"  replied  .Dr. 
Fornerol.  "And  I  have  known  men,  and  even 
doctors,  who  were  women  In  this  respect,  and  who 
shared  In  the  credulity  of  the  nurses.  For  my 
part,  the  experience  of  an  already  long  practice,  my 
knowledge  of  observations  made  by  scientists,  and 
especially  a  general  view  of  embryology,  prevent 
my  sharing  In  this  popular  belief." 

"Then,  according  to  your  opinion,  doctor,  wish- 
ing-marks  are  just  spots  like  others,  that  form  on 
the  skin  without  known  cause." 

"Stop  a  bit!  'WIshing-marks'  present  a  par- 
ticular characteristic.  They  contain  no  blood- 
vessels and  are  not  erectile,  like  the  tumours  with 
which  you  might  perhaps  be  tempted  to  confuse 
them." 

"You  declare,  doctor,  that  they  are  a  peculiar 
species.  Do  you  make  no  inference  from  that  as  to 
their  origin?" 

"Absolutely  none." 

"But  If  these  spots  are  not  really  'wIshing-marks,' 
if  you  refuse  them  a  .  .  .  how  shall  I  put  it?  .  .  , 


140     THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

a  psychic  origin,  I  am  unable  to  account  for  the 
accident  of  a  belief  which  is  found  in  the  Bible,  and 
which  is  still  shared  by  such  a  great  number  of 
people.  My  aunt  Pastre  was  a  very  intelligent 
and  by  no  means  superstitious  woman.  She  died 
last  spring,  aged  seventy-seven,  in  the  full  belief 
that  the  three  white  currants  visible  on  the  shoulder 
of  her  daughter  Bertha  had  an  illustrious  origin  and 
came  from  the  Pare  de  Neuilly,  where,  in  the 
autumn  of  1834,  during  her  pregnancy,  she  was 
presented  to  Queen  Marie-Amelie,  who  took  her 
to  walk  along  a  path  bordered  by  currant-bushes." 

To  this  Dr.  Fornerol  made  no  reply.  He  was 
not  remarkably  given  to  contradicting  the  opinions 
of  rich  patients.  But  M.  Bergeret,  professor  of 
literature  at  the  University,  bent  his  head  towards 
his  left  shoulder  and  gave  a  far-away  look,  as  he 
always  did  whenever  he  was  going  to  speak.  Then 
he  said: 

"Gentlemen,  It  Is  a  fact  that  these  marks,  called 
'wishlng-spots,'  reduce  themselves  to  a  small  num- 
ber of  types,  which  may  be  classified,  according  to 
their  colour  and  form,  into  strawberries,  currants, 
and  raspberries,  or  wine  and  coffee  spots.  It 
would,  perhaps,  be  convenient  to  add  to  these  types 
that  of  those  diffused  yellow  spots  in  which  folks 
endeavour  to  recognise  portions  of  tart  or  mince- 
pie.  Now,  who  can  possibly  believe  that  pregnant 
women  desire  nothing  save  to  drink  wine  or  cafe  au 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     141 

lait,  or  to  eat  red  fruits,  and,  possibly,  forcemeat- 
pie?  Such  an  idea  runs  counter  to  natural 
philosophy.  That  desire  which,  according  to 
certain  philosophers,  has  alone  created  the  world 
and  alone  preserves  it,  works  in  them  as  in  all 
living  beings,  only  with  more  range  and  diversity. 
It  gives  them  secret  fevers,  hidden  passions,  and 
strange  frenzies.  Without  going  into  the  question 
of  the  effect  of  their  particular  condition  on  the 
appetites  common  to  all  that  lives,  and  even  to 
plants,  we  recognise  that  this  condition  does  not 
produce  indifference,  but  that  it  rather  perverts  and 
inflames  the  deeper  instincts.  If  the  new-born 
child  ought  really  to  carry  the  visible  signs  of  its 
mother's  desires,  believe  me,  we  should  more  fre- 
quently see  imprinted  on  its  body  other  symbols 
than  these  innocent  strawberries  and  drops  of  coffee 
with  which  the  folly  of  old  wives  diverts  itself." 

"I  see  what  you  mean,"  said  M.  de  Terremondre. 
"Women  loving  jewels,  many  children  would  be 
born  with  sapphires,  rubies,  and  emeralds  on  their 
fingers,  and  with  gold  bracelets  on  their  wrists; 
necklaces  of  pearls,  rivieres  of  diamonds  would 
cover  their  neck  and  breast.  Still,  one  ought  to  be 
able  to  point  to  such  children  as  these." 

"Just  so,"  replied  M.  Bergeret. 

And,  taking  up  from  the  table,  where  M.  de 
Terremondre  had  left  it,  the  thirty-eighth  volume 
of  VHistoire  Generate  des  Voyages,  the  professor 


142    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

buried  his  nose  in  the  book,  between  pages  212  and 
213,  a  spot  which,  every  time  that  he  had  opened 
the  inevitable  old  book  during  the  last  six  years, 
had  confronted  him  like  a  fate,  to  the  exclusion 
of  every  other  page,  as  an  instance  of  the  monotony 
with  which  life  glides  by,  a  symbol  of  the  uniform- 
ity of  those  tasks  and  those  days  in  a  provincial 
university  which  precede  the  day  of  death  and  the 
travail  of  the  body  in  the  tomb.  And  this  time,  as 
he  had  already  done  so  many  times  before,  M. 
Bergeret  read  in  volume  xxxviii.  of  VHistoire 
Generate  des  Voyages  the  first  lines  of  page  212: 
"a  passage  to  the  North.  'It  is  to  this  check,'  said 
he,  'that  we  owe  the  opportunity  of  being  able  to 
visit  the  Sandwich  Isles  again,  and  to  enrich  our 
voyage  with  a  discovery  which,  although  the  last, 
seems  in  many  respects  to  be  the  most  important 
that  Europeans  have  yet  made  in  the  whole  expanse 
of  the  Pacific  Ocean.'  The  happy  prophecy  which 
these  words  seemed  to  denote  has,  unfortunately, 
never  been  fulfilled." 

And  this  time,  as  always,  the  reading  of  these 
lines  plunged  M.  Bergeret  into  melancholy. 
Whilst  he  was  immersed  in  it,  the  bookseller,  M. 
Paillot,  confronted  a  little  soldier,  who  had  come  in 
to  buy  a  sou's  worth  of  letter-paper,  with  disdain 
and  hauteur. 

"I  don't  keep  letter-paper,"  declared  M.  Paillot, 
turning  his  back  on  the  little  soldier. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     143 

Then  he  complained  of  his  assistant,  Leon,  who 
was  always  on  errands,  and  who,  once  gone  out, 
never  came  back.  Consequently  he,  Paillot,  was 
constantly  being  pestered  by  intruders.  They 
actually  asked  him  for  letter-paper! 

"I  remember,"  said  Dr.  Fornerol  to  him,  "that 
one  market-day  a  good  country-woman  came  in 
and  asked  you  for  a  plaster,  and  that  you  had  the 
greatest  difficulty  in  preventing  her  from  tucking  up 
her  petticoats  and  showing  you  the  painful  spot 
where  the  paper  was  to  be  applied." 

Paillot,  the  bookseller,  replied  to  this  anecdotic 
sally  by  a  silence  which  expressed  offended  dignity. 

"Heavens  I"  exclaimed  M.  de  Terremondre,  the 
book-lover,  "this  learned  storehouse  of  our  Froben, 
our  Elzevir,  our  Debure,  confused  with  the 
chemist's  shop  of  Thomas  Diafoirus!  What  an 
outrage !" 

"Indeed,"  replied  Dr.  Fornerol,  "the  good  soul 
meant  no  harm  in  showing  Paillot  the  seat  of  her 
trouble.  But  it  won't  do  to  judge  the  peasants  by 
her.  In  general,  they  show  extreme  repugnance  to 
letting  themselves  be  seen  by  the  doctor.  My 
country  colleagues  have  often  remarked  this  to  me. 
Country-women,  attacked  by  serious  diseases,  resist 
examination  with  an  energy  and  obstinacy  which 
townswomen,  and  particularly  women  of  the  world, 
do  not  show  in  the  same  circumstances.  I  saw  a 
farmer's  wife  at  Lucigny  die  of  an  internal  tumour, 


144    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

which   she    had   never   allowed   to   be    suspected." 

M.  de  Terremondre,  who,  as  president  of  several 
local  academies,  had  literary  prejudices,  took  these 
remarks  as  a  pretext  for  accusing  Zola  of  having 
shamefully  maligned  the  peasants  in  La  Terre.  At 
this  accusation,  M.  Bergeret  emerged  from  his 
pensive  sadness  and  said: 

"Yet  the  peasants  are  drunkards  and  parricides, 
and  voluntarily  incestuous,  as  Zola  has  depicted 
them.  Their  repugnance  to  lend  themselves  to 
clinical  inspection  by  no  means  proves  their  chastity. 
It  only  shows  the  power  of  prejudice  in  minds  of 
limited  intelligence.  The  simpler  a  prejudice  is, 
the  stronger  is  its  power.  The  prejudice  that  it  is 
wrong  to  be  seen  naked  remains  powerful  with 
them.  It  has  been  weakened  among  artists  and 
people  of  intelligence  by  the  custom  of  baths, 
douches,  and  massage;  it  has  been  still  further 
weakened  by  aesthetic  feeling  and  by  the  taste  for 
voluptuous  sensations,  and  it  easily  yields  to  con- 
siderations of  health  and  hygiene.  This  is  all  that 
can  be  deduced  from  the  doctor's  observations." 

"I  have  noticed,"  said  M.  de  Terremondre,  "that 
well-made  women  .  .  ." 

"There  are  hardly  any,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Doctor,  you  remind  me  of  my  chiropodist," 
replied  M.  de  Terremondre.  "He  said  to  me  one 
day:  'If  you  were  a  chiropodist,  sir,  you  would 
take  no  stock  in  women.'  " 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     145 

Paillot,  the  bookseller,  who  for  some  moments 
had  been  glued  to  the  wall  listening  intently,  said: 

"I  don't  know  what  is  going  on  in  Queen 
Marguerite's  house;  I  hear  cries  and  the  noise  of 
furniture  being  overturned." 

And  he  was  again  seized  with  his  customary 
misgiving. 

"That  old  lady  will  set  fire  to  her  house,  and  the 
whole  block  of  buildings  will  be  burnt:  it's  all 
wood." 

Nobody  heeded  these  words,  nobody  attempted 
to  soothe  his  ridiculous  apprehensions.  Dr. 
Fornerol  rose  painfully  to  his  feet,  stretched  the 
wearied  muscles  of  his  arms  with  an  effort,  and 
went  off  on  his  round  of  visits  through  the  town. 

M.  de  Terremondre  put  on  his  gloves  and  took 
a  step  towards  the  door.  Then,  perceiving  a  tall 
withered  figure  which  was  crossing  the  square  in 
stiff,  abrupt  strides: 

"Here,"  said  he,  "is  General  Cartier  de  Chalmot. 
I  hope  the  prefet  won't  meet  him." 

"And  why  not?"  demanded  M.  Bergeret. 
"Because  these  meetings  are  by  no  means 
pleasant  for  M.  Worms-Clavelin.  Last  Sunday 
our  prefet,  while  driving  by  in  a  victoria,  caught 
sight  of  General  Cartier  de  Chalmot,  who  was 
walking  with  his  wife  and  daughters.  Lolling  back 
in  his  carriage,  with  his  hat  on  his  head,  he  saluted 
the  gallant  veteran  with  a  little  wave  of  his  hand 


146    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

and  a  'Good-day,  good-day,  general !'  The  general 
reddened  with  anger.  For  the  unassuming  are  al- 
ways violent  in  their  anger.  General  Chalmot  was 
beside  himself.  He  was  terrible.  Before  all  the 
promenaders  he  imitated  M.  Worms-Clavelin's 
familiar  salute  and  shouted  at  him  in  a  voice  of 
thunder:     'Good-day,  good-day,  prefetf  " 

"There   is  perfect  silence  now  in  Queen   Mar- 
guerite's house,"  said  M.  Paillot. 


XIII 


wm 


HE  midday  sun  darted  Its  clear  white 
rays.  Not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  not 
a  breath  In  the  air.  The  solitary 
orb  swung  across  the  vast  repose  in 
which  everything  was  wrapped  and 
urged  its  blazing  course  towards  the  horizon.  On 
the  deserted  Mall  the  shadows  lay  still  and  heavy  at 
the  foot  of  the  elms.  A  road-mender  slept  in  the 
bottom  of  the  ditch  that  bounds  the  ramparts. 
The  birds  were  silent. 

Seated  at  the  shady  end  of  a  bench  three  parts 
steeped  in  sunlight,  M.  Bergeret  forgot,  under 
these  classic  trees,  in  the  friendly  solitude,  his  wife 
and  his  three  daughters,  his  cramped  life  and  his 
cramped  home;  like  iEsop  he  revelled  in  the  free- 
dom of  his  mind,  and  his  analytical  imagination 
roved  Irresponsibly  among  the  living  and  the  dead. 
However  Abbe  Lantalgne,  head  of  the  high 
seminary,  was  passing,  with  his  breviary  In  his  hand, 
down  the  broad  walk  of  the  Mall.  M.  Bergeret 
rose  to  offer  his  shady  place  on  the  bench  to  the 
priest.  M.  Lantalgne  came  up  and  sank  Into  it 
composedly,  with  that  priestly  dignity  which  never 
left  him  and  which  in  him  was  just  simplicity.  M. 
Bergeret   sat   near   him,    at   the    spot   where    the 

147 


148     THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

shadow  fell  mingled  with  light  from  the  feathery- 
end  of  the  branches,  so  that  his  black  clothing  was 
covered  with  golden  discs,  and  over  his  dazzled 
eyes  his  eyelids  began  to  blink. 

He  congratulated  Abbe  Lantaigne  in  these 
words : 

"It  is  said  everywhere,  monsieur  I'abbe,  that  you 
will  be  called  to  the  bishopric  of  Tourcoing. 

"The  sign  I  hail,  and  from  it  dare  to  hope.* 

But  this  choice  is  too  good  a  one  not  to  make  one 
doubtful.  You  are  believed  to  be  a  royalist,  and 
that  counts  against  you.  Are  you  not  a  republican 
like  the  Pope?" 

M.  lantaigne:  *'I  am  a  republican  like  the 
Pope.  That  is  to  say,  I  am  at  peace  and  not  at  war 
with  the  government  of  the  Republic.  But  peace  is 
not  love.     And  I  do  not  love  the  Republic." 

M.  BERGERET:  "I  guess  your  reasons.  You 
condemn  it  for  being  freethinking  and  hostile  to 
the  clergy." 

M.  lantaigne:  "Assuredly  I  condemn  it  as 
irreligious  and  inimical  to  the  priests.  But  rhis 
irreligion,  these  hostilities,  are  not  inherent  in  it. 
They  are  the  attributes  of  republicans,  not  of  the 
Republic.  They  diminish  or  increase  at  every 
change  of  ministers.  They  are  less  to-day  than 
they  were  yesterday.  Possibly  they  will  increase 
to-morrow.     Perhaps  a  time  will  come  when  they 

•"J'cD   accepte  I'augure  et  j'ose   I'espirac* 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     149 

will  be  non-existent,  as  they  were  non-existent  under 
the  rule  of  Marshal  MacMahon,  or  at  least  during 
the  delusive  beginnings  of  that  rule  and  under  the 
deceptive  ministry  of  May  i6th.  They  are 
accidental,  not  essential.  But  even  if  it  were 
respectful  towards  religion  and  its  ministers,  I 
should  still  hate  the  Republic." 

M.  bergeret:     "Why?" 

M.  lantaigne:  "Because  it  is  diversity.  In 
that  it  is  essentially  bad." 

M.  bergeret:  "I  don't  quite  understand  you, 
monsieur  I'abbe." 

M.  LANTAIGNE:  "That  comes  from  your  not 
having  the  theological  mind.  At  one  time  even 
laymen  received  some  impress  of  it.  Their  college 
note-books,  which  they  preserved,  supplied  them 
with  the  elements  of  philosophy.  That  is  espe- 
cially true  of  the  men  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
At  that  time  all  those  who  were  educated  knew  how 
to  reason,  even  the  poets.  It  is  the  teaching  of 
Port-Royal  that  underlies  the  Phedre  of  Racine. 
But  to-day  when  theology  has  been  relegated  to  ihe 
seminaries,  no  one  knows  how  to  reason,  and  men  of 
the  world  are  almost  as  foolish  as  poets  and 
savants.  Did  not  M.  de  Terremondre,  believing 
that  he  was  speaking  to  the  point,  tell  me  yesterday, 
on  the  Mall,  that  Church  and  State  ought  to  make 
mutual  concessions?  People  no  longer  know,  they 
no  longer  think.     Empty  words  pass  and  repass  in 


I50    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

the  air.  We  are  in  Babel.  You,  Monsieur  Ber- 
geret,  are  much  better  read  in  Voltaire  than  in 
Saint  Thomas." 

M.  bergeret:  "It  is  true.  But  did  you  not 
say,  monsieur  I'abbe,  that  the  Republic  is  diversity, 
and  that  in  that  respect  it  is  essentially  bad?  That 
is  what  I  beg  you  to  explain  to  me.  Perhaps  I 
might  succeed  in  understanding  you.  I  know  more 
theology  than  you  credit  me  with.  Note-book  in 
hand,  I  have  read  Baronius." 

M.  lantaigne:  "Baronius  is  only  an  annalist, 
although  the  greatest  of  all;  and  I  am  quite  sure 
that  from  him  you  have  only  been  able  to  carry 
away  some  historic  odds  and  ends.  If  you  were  in 
the  slightest  degree  a  theologian,  you  would  be 
neither  surprised  nor  disconcerted  at  what  I  have 
just  said. 

"Diversity  is  hateful.  It  is  the  characteristic  of 
evil  to  be  diverse.  This  characteristic  manifests 
itself  in  the  government  of  the  Republic,  which  is 
more  alienated  than  any  other  from  unity.  With 
its  want  of  unity  it  fails  in  independence,  per- 
manence, and  power.  It  fails  in  knowledge,  and 
one  may  say  of  it  that  it  knows  not  what  it  does. 
Although  for  our  chastisement  it  continues,  yet  it 
has  no  continuity.  For  the  idea  of  continuity 
implies  that  of  identity,  and  the  Republic  of  one 
day  is  never  the  same  as  that  of  the  day  before. 
Even  its  ugliness  and  its  vices  do  not  belong  to  it. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     151 

And  you  have  yourself  remarked  that  by  them  it 
has  never  been  discredited.  Reproaches  and 
scandals  that  would  have  ruined  the  mightiest 
empire  have  poured  over  it  harmlessly.  It  is  in- 
destructible, for  it  is  destruction.  It  is  dispersion, 
it  is  discontinuity,  it  is  diversity,  it  is  evil." 

M.  bergeret:  "Are  you  speaking  of  Republics 
in  general,  or  only  of  our  own?" 

M.  lantaigne:  "Obviously  I  am  considering 
neither  the  Roman  Republic,  nor  the  Dutch,  nor  the 
Swiss,  but  only  the  French.  For  these  govern- 
ments have  nothing  in  common  save  the  name,  and 
you  will  not  charge  me  with  judging  them  by  the 
name  by  which  they  call  themselves,  nor  by  those 
points  in  which  they  seem,  one  and  all,  opposed  to 
monarchy — an  opposition  which  is  not  in  itself 
necessarily  to  be  condemned;  but  the  Republic  in 
France  means  nothing  more  than  the  lack  of  a 
prince  and  the  want  of  a  governing  power.  And 
this  nation  was  too  old  at  the  time  of  the  amputa- 
tion for  one  not  to  fear  that  it  would  die  of  it." 

M.  bergeret:  "Yet  France  has  already  sur- 
vived the  Empire  by  twenty-seven  years,  the  bour- 
^eois-kmg  by  forty-eight  years,  and  the  legitimate 
sovereign  by  sixty-six  years." 

M.  lantaigne:  "Say  rather  that  for  a  century 
France,  wounded  to  death,  has  been  dragging  out  a 
miserable  remnant  of  life  in  alternate  fits  of  fever 
and  prostration.     And  do  not  imagine  that  I  flatter 


152    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

the  past  or  base  my  regrets  on  lying  pictures  of  an 
age  of  gold  which  never  existed.  The  conditions 
of  national  life  are  quite  familiar  to  me.  Its  hours 
are  marked  by  perils,  its  days  by  disasters.  And  it 
is  just  and  necessary  that  it  should  be  so.  Its  life, 
like  that  of  individual  men,  if  it  were  exempt  from 
trials,  would  have  no  meaning.  The  early  history 
of  France  is  full  of  crimes  and  expiations.  God 
ceaselessly  chastened  this  nation  with  the  zeal  of 
an  untiring  love,  and^in  the  time  of  the  kings  His 
mercy  spared  her  no  suffering.  But,  being  then 
Christian,  her  woes  were  useful  and  precious  to 
her.  In  them  she  recognised  the  ennobling  power 
of  chastisement.  From  them  she  derived  her 
lessons,  her  merits,  her  salvation,  her  power,  and 
her  renown.  Now  her  sufferings  have  no  longer 
any  meaning  for  her;  she  neither  understands  them 
nor  acquiesces  in  them.  Whilst  undergoing  the 
test  she  rebels  against  it.  And  the  demented  state 
expects  good  fortune  I  It  is  in  losing  faith  in  God 
that  one  loses,  along  with  the  idea  of  the  absolute, 
the  knowledge  of  the  relative  and  even  the  historic 
sense.  God  alone  informs  the  logical  sequence  of 
human  events  which,  without  Him,  would  no  longer 
follow  one  another  in  a  rational  and  conceivable 
manner.  And  for  the  last  hundred  years  the 
history  of  France  has  been  an  enigma  for  the 
French.  Yet  even  in  our  days  there  was  one 
solemn  hour  of  hope  and  expectation. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     153 

"The  horseman  who  rides  forth  at  the  hour 
appointed  by  God,  and  who  is  called  now  Shal- 
manezar,  now  Nebuchadnezzar,  then  Cyrus,  Cam- 
byses,  Memmius,  Titus,  Alaric,  Attila,  Mahomet 
IL,  or  William  had  ridden  with  fiery  trail  across 
France.  Humiliated,  bleeding,  and  mutilated,  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  Heaven.  May  that  moment  be 
counted  to  her  for  righteousness  I  She  seemed  to 
understand,  and  along  with  her  faith  to  recover  her 
intelligence,  to  recognise  the  value  and  the  use  of 
her  vast  and  providential  woes.  She  aroused  her 
just  men,  her  Christians,  to  form  a  sovereign 
assembly.  Then  appeared  the  spectacle  of  that 
assembly,  renewing  a  solemn  custom  and  consecrat- 
ing France  to  the  heart  of  Jesus.  We  saw,  as  in 
the  times  of  Saint  Louis,  churches  rising  on  the 
mountains,  before  the  gaze  of  penitent  cities;  we 
saw  the  foremost  citizens  preparing  for  the  restora- 
tion of  the  monarchy." 

M.  BERGERET  {sotto  voce)  :  "i.  The  Assembly 
of  Bordeaux.  2.  The  Sacre-Coeur  of  Montmartre 
and  the  Church  of  Fourvieres  at  Lyons.  3.  The 
Commission  of  the  Nine  and  the  mission  of  M. 
Chesnelong." 

M.  lantaigne:     "What  do  you  say?" 

M.  BERGERET:  "Nothing.  I  am  filling  in  the 
headings  in  the  Discours  sur  VHistoire  universelle." 

M.  LANTAIGNE :  "Do  not  jest  and  do  not  deny. 
Coming  along  the  roads  sounded  the  white  horses 


154    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

that  were  bringing  the  king  to  his  own  again. 
Henri  Dieudonne  was  coming  to  re-establish  the 
principle  of  authority  from  which  spring  the  two 
social  forces:  command  and  obedience;  he  was 
coming  to  restore  human  order  along  with  divine 
order,  political  wisdom  along  with  the  religious 
spirit,  the  hierarchy,  law,  discipline,  true  liberty  and 
unity.  The  nation,  linking  up  its  traditions  once 
more,  was  recovering,  along  with  the  sense  of  its 
mission,  the  secret  of  its  power  and  the  pledge  of 
victory.  .  .  .  God  willed  it  not.  These  great 
designs,  thwarted  by  the  enemy  who  still  hated 
us  after  having  satisfied  his  hatred,  opposed  by  a 
great  number  of  the  French,  miserably  supported 
even  by  those  who  had  formed  them,  were  brought 
to  naught  in  one  day.  The  frontier  of  our  country 
was  barricaded  against  Henri  Dieudonne,  and  the 
people  subsided  into  a  Republic;  that  is  to  say,  they 
repudiated  their  birthright,  they  renounced  their 
rights  and  their  duties,  in  order  to  govern  them- 
selves according  to  their  own  inclinations  and  to 
live  at  their  ease  in  that  liberty  which  God  curbs 
and  which  overturns  both  law  and  order,  the 
temporal  images  of  Himself.  Henceforth  evil  was 
king  and  proclaimed  its  edicts.  The  Church,  ex- 
posed to  incessant  vexations,  was  perfidiously 
tempted  on  the  one  side  to  an  impossible  renuncia- 
tion and  on  the  other  to  revolt  involving  punish- 
ment." 


THE  ELM.TREE  ON  THE  MALL     155 

M.  BERGERET:  "You  doubtless  reckon  among 
the  vexatious  measures  the  expulsion  of  the  frater- 
nities?" 

M.  lantaigne:  "It  is  clear  that  the  expulsion 
of  the  fraternities  was  prompted  by  evil  intentions, 
and  was  the  result  of  malicious  calculation.  It  is 
also  certain  that  the  religious  who  were  expelled  did 
not  deserve  such  treatment.  In  striking  them  it 
was  believed  that  the  Church  was  being  struck. 
But  the  blow,  badly  aimed,  strengthened  the  body 
that  they  wished  to  shake,  and  restored  to  the 
parishes  the  authority  and  the  resources  which  had 
been  diverted  from  them.  Our  enemies  did  not 
know  the  Church,  and  their  chief  minister  of  that 
time,  less  ignorant  than  they,  but  more  desirous  of 
satisfying  them  than  of  destroying  us,  made  a  war 
on  us  that  was  merely  mimic  and  for  purposes  of 
show.  For  I  do  not  regard  the  expulsion  of  the 
non-licensed  orders  as  an  effective  attack.  Of 
course,  I  honour  the  victims  of  this  clumsy  persecu- 
tion; but  I  consider  that  the  Church  of  France  has 
In  the  secular  clergy  a  sufficient  staff  to  govern  and 
minister  to  souls  without  the  help  of  the  regulars. 
Alas !  the  Republic  has  Inflicted  deeper  and  more 
secret  wounds  on  the  Church.  You  know  too 
much  about  educational  questions.  Monsieur  Ber- 
geret,  not  to  have  discovered  several  of  these 
plague-spots;  but  the  most  poisonous  one  was  in- 
duced by  the  Introduction  into  the  episcopate  of 


156    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

priests  feeble  in  mind  or  in  character.  ...  I  have 
said  enough  about  that.  The  Christian  at  least 
consoles  and  reassures  himself,  knowing  that  the 
Church  will  not  perish.  But  what  will  be  the 
patriot's  consolation?  He  discovers  that  all  the 
members  of  the  State  are  gangrened  and  rotten. 
In  twenty  years  what  progress  in  corruption!  A 
chief  of  the  State  whose  sole  virtue  is  his  power- 
lessness,  and  who  is  denounced  as  criminal  if  it 
should  get  wind  that  he  ventures  to  act,  or  even 
merely  to  think;  ministers  subject  to  a  foolish 
Parliament,  which  is  believed  to  be  corrupt,  and 
whose  members,  more  ignorant  every  day,  were 
chosen,  moulded,  nominated  in  the  godless  clubs  of 
the  freemasons  to  carry  out  an  evil  policy  of  which 
they  are  yet  incapable,  and  which  is  surpassed  by 
the  evils  brought  about  through  their  turbulent  in- 
action; an  incessantly  increasing  bureaucracy,  vast, 
greedy,  and  mischievous,  in  which  the  Republic 
believes  she  is  securing  for  herself  a  band  of  sup- 
porters, but  which  she  is  nourishing  to  her  own  ruin ; 
a  magistracy  recruited  without  law  or  equity,  and 
too  often  canvassed  by  the  government  not  to  be 
suspected  of  obsequiousness;  an  army,  nay,  a  whole 
nation,  unceasingly  pervaded  by  the  fatal  spirit  of 
independence  and  equality,  is  poured  back  straight- 
way into  town  and  country,  a  whole  community, 
depraved  by  barrack  life,  unfitted  for  arts  and 
trades,  and  disliking  all  labour ;  an  educational  body 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     157 

which  has  a  mission  to  teach  atheism  and  im- 
morality; a  diplomatic  corps  which  fails  in  readiness 
and  authority,  and  which  leaves  the  care  of  our 
foreign  policy  and  the  conclusion  of  our  alliances  to 
innkeepers,  shopkeepers  and  journalists;  in  a  word, 
all  the  powers,  the  legislative  and  the  executive,  the 
judicial,  the  military,  and  the  civil,  intermingled, 
confused,  destroyed  one  by  the  other;  a  farcical  rule 
which,  in  its  destructive  weakness,  has  given  to 
society  the  two  most  powerful  Instruments  of  death 
that  wickedness  ever  devised:  divorce  and  mal- 
thuslanlsm.  And  all  the  evils  of  which  I  have  made 
a  rapid  summary  belong  to  the  Republic  and  spring 
naturally  from  her:  the  Republic  Is  essentially  un- 
righteous. She  is  unrighteous  in  willing  a  liberty 
which  God  has  not  willed,  since  He  is  the  master, 
and  since  He  has  delegated  to  priests  and  kings  a 
part  of  his  authority;  she  is  unrighteous  in  willing 
an  equality  which  God  has  not  willed,  since  He  has 
established  the  hierarchy  of  dignities  in  Heaven 
and  on  earth;  she  is  unrighteous  in  instituting  that 
tolerance  which  cannot  be  the  will  of  God,  since 
evil  is  Intolerable;  she  Is  unrighteous  In  consulting 
the  will  of  the  people,  as  if  the  multitude  of  ig- 
norant ought  to  prevail  against  a  small  company  of 
those  who  bow  themselves  before  the  will  of  God, 
which  overshadows  the  government  and  even  the 
details  of  administration,  as  a  principle  whose 
consequences  arc  never-ending;  In  a  word,  she  is 


158    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

unrighteous  in  proclaiming  her  indifference  to  re- 
ligion— that  is  to  say,  her  impiety,  her  unbelief,  her 
blasphemies  (of  which  the  very  smallest  is  mortal 
sin),  and  her  adhesion  to  diversity,  which  is  evil 
and  death." 

M.  BERGERET:  "Did  you  not  say  just  now,  mon- 
sieur I'abbe,  that  being  as  republican  as  the  Pope, 
you  were  resolved  to  live  at  peace  with  the  Re- 
public?" 

M.  LANTAIGNE:  "Certainly,  I  will  live  with  her 
in  submission  and  obedience.  In  rebelling  against 
her,  I  should  act  according  to  her  principles,  and 
contrary  to  my  own.  By  being  seditious  I  should 
resemble  her,  and  I  should  no  longer  resemble 
myself. 

"It  is  unlawful  to  return  evil  for  evil. 
Sovereignty  is  hers.  Whether  she  decrees  ill  or 
does  not  decree,  hers  is  the  guilt.  Let  it  rest  with 
herl  My  duty  is  to  obey.  I  shall  do  it.  I  shall 
obey.  As  a  priest  and,  if  it  please  God,  as  a  bishop, 
I  shall  refuse  nothing  to  the  Republic  of  what  I  owe 
her.  I  call  to  mind  that  Saint  Augustine,  in  Hippo, 
then  besieged  by  the  Vandals,  died  a  bishop  and  a 
Roman  citizen.  For  myself,  the  lowest  member  of 
this  illustrious  Church  of  the  Gauls,  after  the 
example  of  the  greatest  of  the  doctors,  I  will 
die  in  France,  a  priest  and  a  French  citizen,  praying 
God  to  scatter  the  Vandals." 

The  elm-trees  on  the  Mall  began  to  incline  their 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     159 

shadow  towards  the  east.  A  fresh  breeze  coming 
from  a  region  of  distant  storm  stirred  among  the 
leaves.  Whilst  a  ladybird  travelled  over  the  sleeve 
of  his  coat,  M.  Bergeret  replied  to  Abbe  Lantaigne 
in  a  tone  of  the  greatest  affability. 

"Monsieur  I'abbe,  you  have  just  traced,  with  an 
eloquence  only  to  be  found  on  your  lips,  the  charac- 
teristics of  democratic  rule.  This  government  is 
very  much  as  you  describe  it.  And  yet  it  is  the  one 
I  prefer.  In  it  all  bonds  are  loosened,  which 
weakens  the  State,  but  relieves  individuals  and  en- 
sures a  certain  ease  of  life  and  a  liberty  which  un- 
fortunately local  tyrannies  counteract.  It  is  true 
that  corruption  appears  to  be  greater  in  it  than  in 
monarchies.  That  springs  from  the  number  and 
diversity  of  the  people  who  are  raised  to  power. 
But  this  corruption  would  be  less  visible  if  the  secret 
of  it  were  better  kept.  The  lack  of  secrecy  and 
the  want  of  continuity  render  all  enterprise  im- 
possible in  a  democratic  Republic.  But,  since  the 
enterprises  of  monarchies  have  most  often  ruined 
the  nations,  I  am  not  very  sorry  to  live  under  a 
government  incapable  of  great  designs.  What 
rejoices  me  especially  in  our  Republic  is  the  sincere 
desire  which  she  shows  not  to  provoke  war  in 
Europe.  She  rejoices  in  militarism,  but  is  not  at 
all  bellicose.  In  considering  the  chances  of  a  war, 
other  governments  have  nothing  to  fear  save 
defeat.     Ours  fears  equally — and  justly  so — ^both 


i6o    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

victory  and  defeat.     This  salutary  fear  secures  us 
peace,  which  is  the  greatest  of  blessings. 

"The  worst  fault  of  the  present  regime  is  that 
it  costs  very  dear.  It  makes  no  outward  show: 
it  is  not  ostentatious.  It  is  gorgeous  neither  in 
its  women  nor  its  horses.  But,  with  its  humble 
appearance  and  neglected  exterior,  it  is  expensive. 
It  has  too  many  poor  relations,  too  many  friends  to 
provide  for.  It  is  a  spendthrift.  The  most 
grievous  point  is  that  it  lives  on  an  exhausted 
country  whose  powers  are  waning  and  which  no 
longer  thrives.  And  the  administration  has  great 
need  of  money.  It  is  aware  that  it  is  in  difficulties. 
And  its  difficulties  are  greater  than  it  fancies. 
They  will  increase  still  more.  The  evil  is  not  new. 
It  is  the  one  which  killed  the  old  regime.  I  am 
going,  monsieur  I'abbe,  to  tell  you  a  great  truth: 
as  long  as  the  State  contents  itself  with  the  revenues 
supplied  by  the  poor,  as  long  as  it  has  enough  from 
the  subsidies  which  are  assured  to  it  with  mechanical 
regularity  by  those  who  work  with  their  hands,  it 
lives  happy,  peaceful,  and  honoured.  Economists 
and  financiers  are  pleased  to  acknowledge  its 
honesty.  But  as  soon  as  this  unhappy  State  driven 
by  need,  makes  a  show  of  asking  for  money  from 
those  who  have  it,  and  of  levying  some  slight  toll  on 
the  rich,  it  is  made  to  feel  that  it  is  committing  a 
horrible  outrage,  is  violating  all  rights,  is  wanting 
in  respect  to  a  sacred  thing,  is  destroying  commerce 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     i6i 

and  industry,  and  crushing  the  poor  by  touching 
the  rich.  No  one  hides  his  conviction  that  dis- 
credit is  at  hand.  And  it  sinks  beneath  the  genuine 
contempt  of  the  good  citizen.  Yet  ruin  comes 
slowly  and  surely.  The  State  touches  capital:  it 
is  lost. 

"Our  ministers  are  jesting  at  us  when  they  speak 
of  the  clerical  or  the  socialist  peril.  There  is  but 
one  peril,  the  financial  peril.  The  Republic  is 
beginning  to  recognise  this.  I  pity  her,  I  shall 
regret  her.  I  was  reared  under  the  Empire,  in  love 
for  the  Republic.  'She  is  justice,'  my  father,  pro- 
fessor of  rhetoric  at  the  college  of  Saint-Omer,  used 
to  say  to  me.  He  did  not  know  her.  She  is  not 
justice  but  she  is  ease.  Monsieur  I'abbe  if  you 
had  a  soul  less  exhalted,  less  serious,  and  more  given 
to  jesting  thoughts,  I  should  confide  to  you  that  the 
present  Republic,  the  Republic  of  1896,  delights  me 
and  touches  me  by  its  modesty.  She  acquiesces  in 
not  being  admired.  She  exacts  but  a  trifling 
respect,  and  even  renounces  esteem.  It  Is  enough 
for  her  to  live.  That  is  her  sole  desire;  it  is  a 
lawful  one.  The  humblest  beings  cling  to  life. 
Like  the  wood-cutter  of  the  fabulist,  like  the 
apothecary  of  Mantua,  who  so  greatly  astonished 
that  young  fool  of  a  Romeo,  she  fears  death,  and  it 
is  her  only  fear.  She  mistrusts  princes  and 
soldiers.  In  danger  of  death  she  would  be  very  ill 
to  handle.     Fear  would  make  her  ferocious.     That 


1 62     THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

would  be  a  pity.  But  as  long  as  they  make  no 
attempt  on  her  life,  and  as  long  as  they  only  attack 
her  honour,  she  is  good-natured.  A  government  of 
this  kind  suits  me  and  gives  me  confidence.  So 
many  others  were  merciless  through  self-esteem  I 
So  many  others  made  sure  of  their  rights,  their 
grandeur  and  their  prosperity  by  cruelties !  So 
many  others  have  poured  out  blood  for  their 
prerogative  and  their  majesty!  She  has  no  self- 
esteem;  she  has  no  majesty.  A  fortunate  lack 
which  keeps  her  innocuous  to  us !  Provided  that 
she  lives  she  Is  content.  She  rules  laxly  and  I 
should  be  tempted  to  praise  her  for  that  more  than 
for  all  the  rest.  And  since  she  governs  laxly  I 
forgive  her  for  governing  badly.  I  suspect  men  at 
all  times  of  having  much  exaggerated  the  necessity 
of  government  and  the  benefits  of  a  strong  adminis- 
tration. Certainly  strong  administrations  make 
nations  great  and  prosperous.  But  the  nations 
have  suffered  so  much  all  through  the  centuries 
for  their  grandeur  and  prosperity,  that  I  fancy 
they  would  renounce  it.  Glory  has  cost  them  too 
dear  for  them  to  resent  the  fact  that  our  present 
rulers  have  only  procured  for  us  the  colonial 
variety  of  it.  If  the  uselessness  of  all  government 
should  at  last  be  discovered,  the  Republic  of  M. 
Carnot  would  have  paved  the  way  for  this  priceless 
discovery.  And  one  ought  to  feel  some  gratitude 
towards  it  for  that.     Taking  everything  into  con- 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     163 

sideration,  I  feel  much  attached  to  our  institutions." 

Thus  spoke  M.  Bergeret,  professor  of  literature 
at  the  University. 

Abbe  Lantaigne  rose,  drew  out  from  his  pocket 
his  blue-checkered  handkerchief,  passed  it  over  his 
lips,  returned  it  to  his  pocket,  smiled,  contrary  to 
his  custom,  secured  his  breviary  under  his  arm,  and 
said: 

"You  express  yourself  pleasantly.  Monsieur  Ber- 
geret. Just  so  did  the  rhetors  talk  in  Rome  when 
Alaric  entered  it  with  his  Visigoths.  Yet  under 
the  terebinth  trees  of  the  Esquiline  the  rhetors  of 
the  fifth  century  let  fall  thoughts  of  less  vanity. 
For  then  Rome  was  Christian.  You  are  that  no 
longer." 

"Monsieur  I'abbe,"  replied  the  professor,  "be  a 
bishop  and  not  the  head  of  the  University." 

"It  is  true.  Monsieur  Bergeret,"  said  the  priest 
with  a  loud  laugh,  "that  if  I  were  head  of  the 
University  I  should  forbid  you  to  be  a  teacher  of 
youth." 

"And  you  would  do  me  a  great  service.  For 
then  I  should  write  in  the  papers  like  M.  Jules 
Lemaitre,  and  who  knows  whether,  like  him  .  .  ." 

"Weill  well!  you  would  not  be  out  of  place 
among  the  wits.  And  the  French  Academy  has  a 
partiality  for  freethinkers." 

He  spoke  and  walked  away  with  a  firm,  straight, 
heavy  tread.     M.  Bergeret  remained  alone  in  the 


1 64     THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

middle  of  the  bench,  which  was  now  three-parts 
covered  by  shade.  The  ladybird  which  had  been 
fluttering  its  wing-cases  on  his  shoulder  for  a 
moment  flew  away.  He  began  to  dream.  He  was 
not  happy,  for  he  had  an  acute  mind  whose  points 
were  not  always  turned  outwards,  and  very  often  he 
pricked  himself  with  the  needle-points  of  his  own 
criticism.  Anaemic  and  bilious,  he  had  a  very 
weak  digestion  and  enfeebled  senses,  which  brought 
him  more  disgust  and  suffering  than  pleasure  and 
happiness.  He  was  reckless  in  speech,  and  in  un- 
erringness  and  precision  his  tactlessness  attained 
the  same  results  as  the  most  practised  skill.  With 
cunning  art  he  seized  every  opportunity  of  injuring 
himself.  He  inspired  the  majority  of  people  with 
a  natural  aversion,  and  being  sociable  and  inclined 
to  fraternise  with  his  fellows,  he  suffered  from  that 
fact.  He  had  never  succeeded  in  moulding  his 
pupils,  and  he  delivered  his  lectures  on  Latin  litera- 
ture in  a  gloomy,  damp,  deserted  cellar,  in  which  he 
was  buried  through  the  Dean's  burning  hatred  of 
him.  The  University  buildings  were,  however, 
spacious.  Built  in  1894,  "these  new  premises," 
according  to  the  words  of  M.  Worms-Clavelin  at 
the  opening,  "testified  to  the  zeal  of  the  govern- 
ment of  the  Republic  for  the  diffusion  of  learning." 
They  boasted  an  amphitheatre,  decorated  by  M. 
Leon  Glaize  with  allegorical  paintings  representing 
Science  and  Literature,  where  M.  Compagnon  gave 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     165 

his  much-belauded  lectures  on  mathematics.     The 
other    gownsmen    in    their    red    or    yellow    taught 
different  subjects  in  handsome,  well-lighted  rooms. 
M.  Bergeret  alone,  under  the  bedel's  ironic  glance, 
had  to  descend,  followed  by  three  students,  into  a 
dusky,    subterranean   hole.     There    in    the    heavy, 
noisome  air,  he  expounded  the  Mneid  with  German 
scholarship  and  French  subtlety;  there,  by  his  lit- 
erary and  moral  pessimism,  he  afflicted  M.  Roux, 
of  Bordeaux,  his  best  pupil;  there,  he  opened  up 
new  vistas,  whose  aspect  was  terrifying;  there,  one 
evening  he  pronounced   those   words   now  become 
famous,  but  which  ought  rather  to  have  perished, 
stifled  in  the  shadow  of  the  vault :     "Fragments  of 
differing  origins,  soldered  clumsily  on  to  each  other, 
made  up  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey.     Such  are  the 
models  of  composition  that  have  been  imitated  by 
Virgil,  by  Fenelon,  and  in  general,  in  classic  litera- 
tures, by  writers  of  narratives  in  verse  or  in  prose." 
M,  Bergeret  was  not  happy.     He  had  received 
no  honorary  distinction.     It  is  true  that  he  despised 
honours.     But   he    felt   that   it   would  have   been 
much  finer  to  despise  them  while  accepting  them. 
He  was  obscure  and  less  well  known  in  the  town  for 
works  of  talent  than  M.  de  Terremondre,  author 
of  a  Tourist  Guide;  than  General  Milher,  a  dis- 
tinguished miscellaneous  writer  of  the  department; 
less    even    than    his    pupil,    M.    Albert    Roux,    of 
Bordeaux,  author  of  Niree,  a  poem  in  vers  libres. 


1 66    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

Certainly  he  despised  literary  fame,  knowing  that 
that  of  Virgil  in  Europe  rested  on  a  double  mis- 
conception, one  absurd  and  the  other  fabulous. 
But  he  suffered  at  having  no  intercourse  with 
writers  who,  like  MM.  Faguet,  Doumic,  or  Pellis- 
sier,  seemed  akin  to  him  in  mind.  He  would  have 
liked  to  know  them,  to  live  with  them  in  Paris,  like 
them  to  write  in  reviews,  to  contradict,  to  rival,  per- 
haps to  outstrip  them.  He  recognised  in  himself  a 
certain  subtlety  of  intellect,  and  he  had  written 
pages  which  he  knew  to  be  pleasing. 

He  was  not  happy.  He  was  poor,  shut  up  with 
his  wife  and  his  three  daughters  in  a  little  dwelling, 
where  he  tasted  to  the  full  the  inconveniences  of 
domestic  life;  and  it  harassed  him  to  find  hair- 
curlers  on  his  writing-table,  and  to  see  the  margins 
of  his  manuscripts  singed  by  curling-tongs.  The 
only  secure  and  pleasant  place  of  retreat  that  he  had 
in  the  world  was  that  bench  on  the  Mall  shaded  by 
an  ancient  elm,  and  the  old-book  corner  in  Paillot's 
shop. 

He  meditated  for  a  moment  on  his  sad  condition; 
then  he  rose  from  his  bench  and  took  the  road 
which  leads  to  the  bookseller's. 


XIV 

HEN  M.  Bergeret  entered  the  shop, 
Paillot,  the  bookseller,  with  a  pencil 
thrust  behind  his  ear,  was  collecting 
his  "returns."  He  was  stacking 
up  the  volumes  whose  yellow  covers, 
after  long  exposure  to  the  sunlight,  had  turned 
brown  and  become  covered  with  fly-marks.  These 
were  the  unsaleable  copies  which  he  was  sending 
back  to  the  publishers.  M.  Bergeret  recognised 
among  the  "returns"  several  works  that  he  liked. 
He  felt  no  chagrin  at  this,  having  too  much  taste  to 
hope  to  see  his  favourite  authors  winning  the  votes 
of  the  crowd. 

He  sank  down,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do,  in 
the  old-book  corner,  and  through  mere  habit  took 
up  the  thirty-eighth  volume  of  VHistoire  Generate 
des  Voyages.  The  book,  bound  in  green  leather, 
opened  of  its  own  accord  at  p.  212,  and  M.  Bergeret 
once  more  read  these  fatal  lines: 

"a  passage  to  the  North.  'It  is  to  this  check,* 
said  he,  'that  we  owe  the  opportunity  of  being  able 
to  visit  the  Sandwich  Isles  again  .  .  .'  " 
And  M.  Bergeret  sank  into  melancholy. 
M.  Mazure,  the  archivist  of  the  department,  and 
M.  de  Terremondre,  president  of  the  Society  of 
Agriculture  and  Archaeology,  who  both  had  their 

167 


1 68     THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

rush-bottomed  chairs  in  the  old-book  corner,  came 
in  opportunely  to  join  the  professor.  M.  Mazure 
was  a  paleographer  of  great  merit.  But  his 
manners  were  not  elegant.  He  had  married  the 
servant  of  the  archivist,  his  predecessor,  and 
appeared  in  the  town  in  a  straw  hat  with  battered 
crown.  He  was  a  radical,  and  published  docu- 
ments concerning  the  history  of  the  county  town 
during  the  Revolution.  He  enjoyed  inveighing 
against  the  royalists  of  the  department;  but  having 
applied  for  academic  honours  without  having  re- 
ceived them,  he  began  invectives  against  his 
political  friends,  and  particularly  against  M. 
Worms-Clavelin,   the  prefet. 

Being  insulted  by  nature,  his  professional  practice 
of  discovering  secrets  disposed  him  to  slander  and 
calumny.  Nevertheless  he  was  good  company, 
especially  at  table,  where  he  used  to  sing  drinking 
songs. 

"You  know,"  said  he  to  M.  de  Terremondre 
and  M.  Bergeret,  "that  the  prefet  uses  the  house 
of  Rodonneau  junior  for  assignations  with  women. 
He  has  been  caught  there.  Abbe  Guitrel  also 
haunts  the  place.  And,  appropriately  enough,  the 
house  is  called,  in  a  land-survey  of  1783,  the  House 
of  the  Two  Satyrs." 

"But,"  said  M.  de  Terremondre,  "there  are  no 
women  of  loose  life  in  the  house  of  Rondonneau 
junior." 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     169 

"They  are  taken  there,"  answered  Mazure,  the 
archivist. 

"Talking  of  that,"  said  M.  de  Terremondre,  "I 
have  heard,  my  dear  Monsieur  Bergeret,  that  you 
have  been  shocking  my  old  friend  Lantaigne,  on  the 
Mall,  by  a  cynical  confession  of  your  political  and 
social  immorality.  They  say  that  you  know  neither 
law  nor  curb  ..." 

"They  are  mistaken,"  replied  M,  Bergeret. 

".  .  .  that  you  are  indifferent  in  the  matter  of 
government." 

"Not  at  all!  But,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  do  not 
attach  any  special  importance  to  the  form  of  the 
State.  Changes  of  government  make  little  change 
in  the  condition  of  individuals.  We  do  not  depend 
on  constitutions  or  on  charters,  but  on  instincts  and 
morals.  It  serves  no  purpose  at  all  to  change  the 
names  of  public  necessities.  And  it  is  only  the 
crazy  and  the  ambitious  who  make  revolutions." 

"It  is  not  above  ten  years  ago,"  replied  M. 
Mazure,  "that  I  would  have  risked  a  broken  head 
for  the  Republic.  To-day  I  could  see  her  turn  a 
somersault,  and  only  laugh  and  cross  my  arms. 
The  old  republicans  are  despised.  Favour  is  only 
granted  to  the  turncoats.  I  am  not  referring  to 
you,  Monsieur  de  Terremondre.  But  I  am  dis- 
gusted. I  have  come  to  think  with  M.  Bergeret. 
All  governments  are  ungrateful." 

"They   are   all  powerless,"   said   M.   Bergeret; 


I70    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MAIL 

"and  I  have  here  in  my  pocket  a  little  tale  which  I 
should  very  much  like  to  read  to  you.  I  have 
founded  it  on  an  anecdote  which  my  father  often  re- 
lated to  me.  It  proves  that  absolute  power  is 
powerlessness  itself.  I  should  like  to  have  your 
opinion  on  this  trifle.  If  you  do  not  disapprove 
of  it,  I  shall  send  it  to  the  Revue  de  Paris'* 

M.  de  Terremondre  and  M.  Mazure  drew  their 
chairs  up  to  that  of  M.  Bergeret,  who  pulled  a  note- 
book from  his  pocket  and  began  to  read  in  a  weak, 
but  clear  voice : 

A   DEPUTY   MAGISTRATE 

In  a  salon  of  the  Tuileries  the  ministers  h'ad 
assembled  .  .  . 

"Allow  me  to  listen,"  said  M.  Paillot,  the  book- 
seller. "I  am  waiting  for  Leon,  who  is  not  back 
yet.  When  he  is  out,  he  never  comes  back.  I  am 
obliged  to  tend  the  shop  and  serve  the  customers. 
But  I  shall  hear  at  least  a  part  of  the  reading.  I 
like  to  improve  my  mind." 

"Very  well,  Paillot,"  said  M.  Bergeret,  and  he 
resumed : 

A  DEPUTY  MAGISTRATE 

In  a  salon  of  the  Tuileries  the  ministers  had 
assembled  in  council,  under  the  presidency  of  the 
Emperor.     Napoleon    III.    was    silently    making 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     171 

marks  with  a  pencil  on  a  plan  of  an  industrial  town. 
His  long,  sallow  face,  with  its  melancholy  sweet- 
ness, had  a  strange  appearance  amid  the  square 
heads  of  the  men  of  affairs  and  the  bronzed  faces 
of  the  men  of  toil.  He  half  raised  his  eyelids, 
glanced  with  his  gentle,  vague  look  round  the  oval 
table,  and  asked; 

"Gentlemen,  is  there  any  other  matter  to  be 
discussed?" 

His  voice  issued  from  his  thick  moustaches  a 
little  muffled  and  hollow,  and  seemed  to  come  from 
very  far  off. 

At  this  moment  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals  made  a 
sign  to  his  colleague  of  the  Home  Department 
which  the  latter  did  not  seem  to  notice. — At  that 
time  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals  was  M.  Delarbre, 
a  magistrate  in  virtue  of  his  birth,  who  had  dis- 
played in  his  high  judicial  functions  a  becoming 
pliability,  abruptly  laid  aside  now  and  then  for  the 
rigidity  of  a  professional  dignity  that  nothing  could 
bend.  It  was  said  that,  after  having  become  an 
ultramontane  and  a  member  of  the  Empress's  party, 
the  Jansenism  of  those  great  lawyers,  his  ances- 
tors, sometimes  bubbled  up  in  his  nature.  But 
those  who  had  access  to  him  considered  ^him  to  be 
merely  punctilious,  a  trifle  fanciful,  indifferent  to 
the  great  questions  which  his  mind  did  not  grasp, 
and  obstinate  about  the  trifles  which  suited  the 
pettiness  of  his  intriguing  character. 


172    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MAIX 

The  Emperor  was  preparing  to  rise,  with  his  two 
hands  on  the  gilt  arms  of  his  chair.  Delarbre,  see- 
ing that  the  Home  Secretary,  his  nose  in  his  pa- 
pers, was  avoiding  his  look,  took  it  upon  himself 
to  challenge  him. 

"Pardon  me,  my  dear  colleague,  for  raising  a 
question  which,  although  it  started  in  your  depart- 
ment, none  the  less  concerns  mine.  But  you  have 
yourself  declared  to  me  your  intention  of  apprising 
the  Council  of  the  extremely  delicate  situation  in 
which  a  magistrate  has  been  placed  by  the  prefet  of 
a  department  in  the  West." 

The  Home  Secretary  shrugged  his  broad  shoul- 
ders slightly  and  looked  at  Delarbre  with  some 
impatience.  He  had  the  air,  at  once  jovial  and 
choleric,  which  belongs  to  great  demagogues. 

"Oh,"  said  he,  "that  was  gossip,  ridiculous  tittle- 
tattle,  a  rumour  which  I  should  be  ashamed  to  bring 
to  the  notice  of  the  Emperor,  were  it  not  that  my 
colleague,  the  Minister  of  Justice,  seems  to  attach 
an  importance  to  it  which,  for  my  part,  I  have  not 
succeeded  in  discovering." 

Napoleon  began  sketching  once  more.  "It  has 
to  do  with  the  prefet  of  Loire-Inferieure,"  con- 
tinued the  minister.  "This  official  is  reputed,  in  his 
department,  to  be  a  gallant  squire  of  dames,  and  the 
reputation  for  gallantry  which  has  become  attached 
to  his  name,  combined  with  his  well-known  courtesy 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      173 

and  his  devotion  to  the  government,  has  contrib- 
uted not  a  little  to  the  popularity  which  he  enjoys 
in  the  country.  His  attentions  to  Madame 
Mereau,  the  wife  of  the  procureur-general,  have 
been  noticed  and  commented  on.  I  grant  that 
M.  Pelisson,  the  prefet,  has  given  occasion  for 
scandalous  gossip  in  Nantes,  and  that  severe 
charges  have  been  laid  to  his  account  in  the  bour- 
geois circles  of  the  county  town,  especially  in  the 
drawing-rooms  frequented  by  the  magistracy.  As- 
suredly M.  Pelisson's  attitude  towards  Madame 
Mereau,  whose  position  ought  to  have  protected 
her  from  any  such  equivocal  attentions,  would  be 
regrettable,  if  it  were  continued.  But  the  informa- 
tion I  have  received  enables  me  to  state  that 
Madame  Mereau  has  not  been  actually  compro- 
mised and  that  no  scandal  is  to  be  anticipated.  A 
little  prudence  and  circumspection  will  suffice  to 
prevent  this  affair  having  any  annoying  conse- 
quences." 

Having  spoken  in  these  terms,  the  Home  Secre- 
tary closed  his  portfolio  and  leant  back  in  his  chair. 

The  Emperor  said  nothing. 

"Excuse  me,  my  dear  colleague  I"  said  the  Keeper 
of  the  Seals  drily,  "the  wife  of  the  procureur- 
general  of  the  court  of  Nantes  is  the  mistress  of  the 
prefet  of  Loire-Inferieure;  this  connection,  known 
throughout  the  whole  district,  is  calculated  to  in- 


174    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

jure  the  prestige  of  the  magistracy.  It  is  impor- 
tant to  call  the  attention  of  His  Majesty  to  this 
state  of  things." 

"Doubtless,"  replied  the  Home  Secretary,  his 
gaze  turned  towards  the  allegories  on  the  ceiling, 
"doubtless,  such  facts  are  to  be  regretted;  yet  one 
must  in  no  way  exaggerate;  it  is  possible  that  the 
prefet  of  Loire-Inferieure  may  have  been  a  little 
imprudent  and  Madame  Mereau  a  little  giddy, 
but  .  .  ." 

The  minister  wafted  the  rest  of  his  ideas  towards 
the  mythological  figures  which  floated  across  the 
painted  sky.  There  was  a  moment's  silence,  dur- 
ing which  one  could  hear  the  impudent  chirping  of 
the  sparrows  perched  on  the  trees  in  the  garden 
and  on  the  eaves  of  the  chateau. 

M.  Delarbre  bit  his  thin  lips  and  pulled  his  aus- 
tere but  coquettish  moustaches.     He  replied: 

"Excuse  my  persistence;  the  secret  reports  which 
I  have  received  leave  no  doubt  as  to  the  nature  of 
the  relationship  between  M.  Pelisson  and  Madame 
Mereau.  These  relations  were  already  established 
two  years  ago.  In  fact,  in  the  month  of  Septem- 
ber 1 8 —  the  prefet  of  Loire-Inferieure  got  the  pro- 
cureur-general  an  invitation  to  hunt  with  the 
Comte  de  Morainville,  deputy  for  the  third  divi- 
sion in  the  department,  and  during  the  magistrate's 
absence  he  entered  Madame  Mereau's  room.  He 
got  in  by  way  of  the  kitchen-garden.     The  next 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     175 

day  the  gardener  saw  traces  that  the  wall  had  been 
scaled  and  informed  the  police.  Inquiry  was  made; 
they  even  arrested  a  tramp,  who,  not  being  able 
to  prove  his  innocence,  endured  several  months  of 
precautionary  imprisonment.  He  had,  it  is  true, 
a  very  bad  record  and  no  special  points  of  interest 
about  him.  Still  to  this  day  the  procureur-general 
persists,  supported  by  a  very  small  proportion  of 
the  public,  in  believing  him  to  be  guilty  of  house- 
breaking. The  position,  I  repeat,  is  rendered  by 
this  fact  no  less  annoying  and  prejudicial  to  the 
prestige  of  the  magistracy." 

The  Home  Secretary  poured  over  the  discussion, 
according  to  his  wont,  certain  massive  phrases  cal- 
culated to  close  and  suppress  it  by  their  weight.  He 
held,  said  he,  his  prefets  in  the  palm  of  his  hand;  he 
would  be  able  to  lead  M.  Pelisson  easily  to  a  just 
appreciation  of  things,  without  taking  any  drastic 
measure  against  an  intelligent  and  zealous  official, 
who  had  succeeded  in  his  department,  and  who  was 
valuable  "from  the  point  of  view  of  the  electoral 
position."  No  one  could  say  that  he  was  more 
interested  than  the  Home  Secretary  in  maintain- 
ing a  good  understanding  between  the  officials  of 
the  departments  and  the  judicial  authority. 

Still  the  Emperor  kept  that  dreamy  look  in 
which  he  was  usually  wrapped  when  silent.  He 
was  evidently  thinking  of  past  events,  for  he  sud- 
denly  said:      "Poor   M.    Pelisson!      I    knew   his 


176    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

father.  He  was  called  Anacharsis  Pelisson.  He 
was  the  son  of  a  republican  of  1792;  himself  a 
republican,  he  used  to  write  in  the  opposition  papers 
during  the  July  administration.  At  the  time  of  my 
captivity  in  the  fortress  of  Ham,  he  addressed  a 
friendly  letter  to  me.  You  cannot  imagine  the  joy 
which  the  slightest  token  of  sympathy  gives  a 
prisoner.  After  that  we  went  on  our  separate 
paths.  We  never  saw  one  another  again.  He  is 
dead." 

The  Emperor  lit  a  cigarette  and  remained 
wrapped  in  his  dream  for  a  moment.     Then  rising : 

"Gentlemen,  I  will  not  detain  you." 

With  the  awkward  gait  of  a  great  winged  bird 
when  it  walks,  he  returned  to  his  private  apart- 
ments; and  the  ministers  went  out,  one  after  the 
other,  through  the  long  suite  of  rooms,  beneath 
the  solemn  gaze  of  the  ushers.  The  marshal  who 
was  the  Minister  of  War  held  out  his  cigar-case  to 
the  Keeper  of  the  Seals. 

"Monsieur  Delarbre,  shall  we  take  a  little  walk 
outside?     I  want  to  stretch  my  legs." 

Whilst  they  were  both  walking  down  the  Rue  de 
Rivoli,  by  the  railing  that  borders  the  Terrasse  des 
Feuillants : 

"Speaking  of  cigars,"  said  the  marshal,  "I  only 
like  very  dry  one-sou  cigars.  The  others  seem  like 
sweetmeats  to  me.     Don't  you  know  .  .  ." 

He  cut  short  his  thought,  then : 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL      177 

"This  Pelisson  that  you  were  talking  about  just 
now  in  the  Council,  isn't  he  a  little  dried  up,  swarthy 
man,  who  was  sous-prefet  at  Saint-Die  five  years 
ago?" 

Delarbre  replied  that  Pelisson  had  indeed  been 
souS'prefet  in  the  Vosges. 

"So  I  said  to  myself:  I  knew  Pelisson.  And  I 
remember  Madame  Pelisson  very  well.  I  sat  next 
to  her  at  dinner  at  Saint-Die,  when  I  went  there 
for  the  unveiling  of  a  monument.  Don't  you 
know  ..." 

"What  kind  of  woman  is  she?"  asked  Delarbre. 

"Tiny,  swarthy,  thin.  A  deceptive  thinness.  In 
the  morning,  in  a  high-necked  dress,  she  looked  a 
mere  wisp.  At  table  in  the  evening,  in  a  low- 
necked  dress  with  flowers  in  her  bosom,  very 
charming." 

"But  morally,  marshal?" 

"Morally.  ...  I  am  not  an  imbecile,  am  I, 
now?  Well!  I  have  never  understood  anything 
about  a  woman's  morals.  All  that  I  can  tell  you  is 
that  Madame  Pelisson  passed  for  a  sentimentalist. 
They  said  she  had  a  warm  heart  for  handsome 
men." 

"She  gave  you  a  hint  to  that  effect,  my  dear 
marshal?" 

"Not  the  least  in  the  world.  She  said  to  me  at 
dessert,  *I  dote  on  eloquence.  A  noble  speech 
carries  me  away.'     I  could  not  apply  that  remark  to 


178     THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

myself.  It  is  true  that  I  had  that  morning 
delivered  an  address.  But  I  had  got  my  aide-de- 
camp, a  short-sighted  artillery  officer,  to  write  it  out 
for  me.  He  had  written  so  small  that  I  could  not 
read  it.  .  .  .  Don't  you  know?  .  .  ." 

They  had  reached  the  Place  Vendome.  De- 
larbre  held  out  his  little  withered  hand  to  the 
marshal,  and  stole  under  the  archway  of  the 
Ministry. 

*  *  ♦  *  ♦ 

The  following  week,  at  the  breaking  up  of  the 
Council,  when  the  ministers  were  already  withdraw- 
ing, the  Emperor  laid  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of 
the  Keeper  of  the  Seals. 

"My  dear  Monsieur  Delarbre,"  said  he  to  him, 
"I  have  heard  by  chance — in  my  position,  one  never 
learns  anything  save  by  chance — that  there  is  a 
deputy  magistrate's  post  vacant  at  the  Nantes  bar. 
I  beg  that  you  will  consider  for  that  post  a  very 
deserving  young  doctor  of  law,  who  has  written  a 
remarkable  treatise  on  Trade  Unions.  His  name 
is  Chanot,  and  he  is  the  nephew  of  Madame  Ramel. 
He  is  to  beg  an  audience  of  you  this  very  day. 
Should  you  propose  him  to  me  for  it,  I  shall  sign 
his  nomination  with  pleasure," 

The  Emperor  had  pronounced  the  name  of  his 
foster-sister  tenderly,  for  he  had  never  lost  his 
affection  for  her,  although,  a  republican  of  repub- 
licans,  she    repelled   his    advances,    refused,    poor 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     179 

widow  as  she  was,  the  master's  offers,  and  raged 
openly  in  her  garret  against  the  coup  d'etat.  But 
yielding  at  last,  after  fifteen  years,  to  the  persistent 
kindness  of  Napoleon  IIL,  she  had  come  to  beg,  as 
earnest  of  reconciliation,  a  favour  from  the  prince 
— not  for  herself,  but  for  her  nephew  young 
Chanot,  a  doctor  of  law,  and,  according  to  his  pro- 
fessors, an  honour  to  the  Schools.  Even  now  it 
was  an  austere  favour  that  Madame  Ramel 
demanded  of  her  foster-brother;  admission  to  the 
open  court  for  young  Chanot  could  scarcely  be  con- 
sidered an  act  of  partiality.  But  Madame  Ramel 
was  keenly  anxious  that  her  nephew  should  be  sent 
to  Loire-Inferieure,  where  his  relatives  lived. 
This  fact  recurred  to  Napoleon's  mind,  and  he  im- 
pressed it  on  the  Minister  of  Justice. 

"It  is  very  important,"  said  he,  "that  my  candi- 
date should  be  nominated  at  Nantes,  for  that  is  his 
native  place  and  where  his  parents  live.  That  is  an 
important  consideration  for  a  young  man  whose 
means  are  small  and  who  likes  family  life." 

"Chanot  .  .  .  hard-working,  meritorious,  and 
with  small  means  .  .  ."  answered  the  minister. 

He  added  that  he  would  use  his  best  endeavours 
to  act  in  accordance  with  the  desire  expressed  by 
His  Majesty.  His  only  fear  was  lest  the  pro- 
cureur-general  should  have  already  submitted  to 
him  a  list  of  proposed  nominees,  among  whom* 
naturally,    the    name    Chanot    would    not    occur. 


i8o    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

This  procureur-general  was,  indeed,  M.  Mereau, 
concerning  whom  there  had  been  a  discussion  in  the 
preceding  Council.  The  Keeper  of  the  Seals  was 
particularly  anxious  to  act  very  handsomely  towards 
him.  But  he  would  strain  every  nerve  to  bring  this 
affair  to  an  issue  that  conformed  with  the  intentions 
expressed  by  His  Majesty. 

He  bowed  and  took  his  leave.  It  was  his  re- 
ception day.  As  soon  as  he  had  entered  his  study, 
he  asked  his  secretary,  Labarthe,  whether  there 
were  many  people  in  the  ante-room.  There  were 
two  presidents  of  courts,  a  councillor  of  the  Appeal 
Court,  the  Cardinal-Archbishop  of  Nicomedia,  a 
crowd  of  judges,  barristers,  and  priests.  The 
minister  asked  if  there  was  any  one  there  called 
Chanot.  Labarthe  searched  in  the  silver  salver, 
and  discovered,  among  the  pile  of  cards,  that  of 
Chanot,  doctor  of  law,  prizeman  of  the  Faculty  of 
Law,  Paris.  The  minister  ordered  him  to  be 
called  first,  merely  requesting  that  he  should 
be  conducted  by  the  back  passages,  in  order  not  to 
offend  the  magistrates  and  clergy. 

The  minister  seated  himself  at  his  table  and  mur- 
mured quite  to  himself: 

"  'A  sentimentalist,'  said  the  marshal,  'with  a 
warm  heart  for  handsome  men  who  speak 
well.'  .  .  ." 

The  usher  introduced  into  the  study  a  huge,  tall 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     i8i 

young  man,  stooping,  spectacled,  and  with  a  pointed 
skull.  Every  part  of  his  uncouth  frame  expressed 
at  once  the  timidity  of  the  recluse  and  the  boldness 
of  the  thinker. 

The  Keeper  of  the  Seals  examined  him  from  head 
to  foot  and  saw  that  he  had  the  cheeks  of  a  child 
and  no  shoulders.  He  signed  to  him  to  sit  down. 
The  suitor,  having  perched  himself  at  the  edge  of 
the  chair,  shut  his  eyes  and  began  to  pour  forth  a 
flood  of  words. 

"Monsieur  le  Ministre,  I  come  to  beg  from  your 
noble  patronage  the  privilege  of  admission  to  the 
magistracy.  Possibly  Your  Excellence  may  con- 
sider that  the  reports  I  have  gained  in  the  various 
examinations  which  I  have  undergone,  and  a  prize 
which  has  been  awarded  to  me  for  a  work  on  Trade 
Unions,  are  sufficient  qualifications,  and  that  the 
nephew  of  Madame  Ramel,  foster-sister  of  the  Em- 
peror, is  not  altogether  unworthy  .   .   ." 

The  Keeper  of  the  Seals  stopped  him  with  a  wave 
of  his  little  yellow  hand. 

"Doubtless,  Monsieur  Chanot,  doubtless  an 
august  patronage,  which  would  never  have  been 
mistakenly  bestowed  on  an  unworthy  recipient,  has 
been  secured  for  you.  I  know  it,  the  Emperor 
takes  much  interest  in  you.  You  desire  a  chair  as 
judge-advocate,  Monsieur  Chanot?" 

"Your  Excellence,"  replied  Chanot,  "would  put 


1 82     THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

the  finishing  touch  to  my  wishes  by  nominating 
me  deputy  magistrate  at  Nantes,  where  my  family 
live." 

Delarbre  fixed  his  leaden  eyes  on  Chanot  and  said 
drily : 

"There  is  no  vacancy  at  the  bar  of  Nantes." 

"Excuse  me,  Your  Excellency,  I  thought  .  .  ." 

The  minister  rose. 

"There  is  none  there." 

And  whilst  Chanot  was  making  clumsily  for  the 
door  and  looking  for  an  exit  in  the  white  panels 
as  he  made  his  bow,  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals  said  to 
him,  with  a  persuasive  air  and  almost  in  a  confiden- 
tial tone : 

"Trust  me.  Monsieur  Chanot,  and  dissuade  your 
aunt  from  making  any  new  solicitations  which,  far 
from  being  of  any  profit  to  you,  will  only  do  you 
harm.  Rest  assured  that  the  Emperor  takes  an  in- 
terest in  you,  and  rely  on  me." 

As  soon  as  the  door  was  shut  the  minister  called 
his  secretary. 

"Labarthe,  bring  me  your  candidate." 

At  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  Labarthe  entered 
a  house  in  the  Rue  Jacob,  mounted  the  staircase  as 
far  as  the  attics,  and  called  from  the  landing: 

"Are  you  ready,  Lespardat?" 

The  door  of  a  little  garret  opened.  Inside  on  a 
shelf   there  were   several  law-books   and  tattered 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     183 

novels ;  on  the  bed  a  black  velvet  mask  with  a  fall  of 
lace,  a  bunch  of  withered  violets,  and  some  fencing 
foils.  On  the  wall  a  bad  portrait  of  Mirabeau,  a 
copper-plate  engraving.  In  the  middle  of  the  room 
a  big  bronzed  fellow  was  brandishing  dumb-bells. 
He  had  frizzled  hair,  a  low  forehead,  hazel  eyes 
full  of  laughter  and  sweetness,  a  nose  that  quivered 
like  the  nostrils  of  a  horse,  and  in  his  pleasantly 
gaping  mouth  strong  white  teeth. 

**I  was  waiting  for  you,"  said  he. 

Labarthe  begged  him  to  dress  himself.  He  was 
hungry.     What  time  would  they  get  their  dinner? 

Lespardat,  having  laid  his  dumb-bells  on  the 
floor,  pulled  off  his  jersey,  and  showed  the  herculean 
nape  that  carried  his  round  head  on  his  broad 
shoulders. 

"He  looks  at  least  twenty-six,"  thought 
Labarthe. 

As  soon  as  Lespardat  had  put  on  his  coat,  the 
thin  cloth  of  which  allowed  one  to  follow  the 
powerful,  easy  play  of  the  muscles,  Labarthe 
pushed  him  outside. 

"We  shall  be  at  Magny's  In  three  minutes.  I 
have  the  minister's  brougham." 

As  they  had  matters  to  discuss,  they  asked  for  a 
private  room  at  the  restaurant. 

After  the  sole  and  the  pre-sale,  Labarthe 
attacked  his  subject  bluntly: 

"Listen  to  me  carefully,  Lespardat.     You  will 


1 84    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

see  my  chief  to-morrow,  your  nomination  will  be 
proposed  by  the  procureur-general  of  Nantes  on 
Thursday,  and  on  Monday  submitted  for  the  signa- 
ture of  the  Emperor.  It  is  arranged  that  it  shall  be 
given  to  him  unexpectedly,  at  the  moment  when  he 
will  be  busy  with  Alfred  Maury  in  fixing  the  site  of 
Alesia.  When  he  is  studying  the  topography  of 
the  Gauls  in  the  time  of  Caesar,  the  Emperor  signs 
everything  they  want  him  to.  But  understand 
clearly  what  is  expected  from  you.  You  must  win 
the  favour  of  Madame  la  prefete.  You  must  win 
from  her  the  ultimate  favour.  It  is  only  by  this 
consummation  that  the  magistracy  will  be  avenged." 

Lespardat  swallowed  and  listened,  pleased  and 
smiling  in  his  ingenious  self-conceit. 

"But,"  said  he,  "what  notion  has  budded  in 
Delarbre's  head?     I  thought  he  was  a  puritan." 

Labarthe,  raising  his  knife,  stopped  him. 

"First  of  all,  my  friend,  I  beg  that  you  will  not 
compromise  my  chief,  who  must  remain  ignorant  of 
all  that's  going  on  here.  But  since  you  have 
brought  in  Delarbre's  name,  I  will  tell  you  that  his 
Puritanism  is  a  jansenist  puritanism.  He  is  a 
great-nephew  of  Deacon  Paris.  His  maternal 
great-uncle  was  that  M.  Carre  de  Montgeron  who 
defended  the  fanatics  of  Saint-Medard's  Cloister  * 

*  In  1730  miracles  were  claimed  by  the  jansenists  to  have  been 
worked  in  the  cemetery  of  St.  Medard,  Paris,  at  the  grave  of 
Francois  de  Paris,  a  young  jansenist  deacon.  The  spot  became 
a  place  of  pilgrimage,  and  was  visited  by  thousands  of  jansenist 
fanatics. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     185 

before  the  Parliament.  Now  the  jansenists  love  to 
practise  their  austerities  in  nooks  and  crannies;  they 
have  a  taste  for  diplomatic  and  canonical  black- 
guardism. It  is  the  effect  of  their  perfect  purity. 
And  then  they  read  the  Bible.  The  Old  Testament 
is  full  of  stories  of  the  same  kind  as  yours,  my  dear 
Lespardat." 

Lespardat  was  not  listening.  He  was  floating  in 
a  sea  of  naive  delight.  He  was  asking  himself: 
"What  will  father  say?  What  will  mother  say?" 
thinking  of  his  parents,  grocers  of  large  ambitions 
and  little  wealth  at  Agen.  And  he  vaguely  asso- 
ciated his  budding  fortune  with  the  glory  of 
Mirabeau,  his  favourite  hero.  Since  his  college 
days  he  had  dreamt  of  a  destiny  rich  with  women 
and  feats  of  oratory. 

Labarthe  recalled  his  young  friend's  attention  to 
himself. 

"You  know,  monsieur  le  substitut,  you  are  not 
irremovable.  If  after  a  reasonable  interval  you 
have  not  made  yourself  very  agreeable  to  Madame 
Pelisson — I  mean  completely  agreeable — you  fall 
into  disgrace." 

"But,"  asked  Lespardat  frankly,  "how  much  time 
do  you  give  me  to  make  myself  excessively  pleasing 
to  Madame  Pelisson?" 

"Until  the  vacation,"  answered  the  minister's 
secretary  gravely.  "We  give  you,  in  addition,  all 
sorts  of  facilities,  secret  missions,   furloughs,  &c. 


1 86    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

Everything  except  money.  Above  all,  we  are  an 
honest  administration.  People  don't  believe  it. 
But  later  on  they  will  find  that  we  were  no  jobbers. 
Take  Delarbre:  he  has  clean  hands.  Besides,  the 
Home  Office,  which  is  on  the  husband's  side, 
controls  the  Secret  Service  Money.  Do  not  count 
on  anything  save  your  two  thousand  four  hundred 
francs  of  salary  and  your  handsome  face  to  cap- 
tivate Madame  Pelisson." 

"Is  she  pretty,  this  prefete  of  mine?"  demanded 
Lespardat. 

He  asked  this  question  carelessly,  without  exag- 
gerating the  importance  of  it,  placidly,  as  behoves  a 
very  young  man  who  finds  all  women  beautiful.  By 
way  of  reply,  Labarthe  threw  on  the  table  the 
photograph  of  a  thin  lady  in  a  round  hat,  with  a 
double  bandeau  falling  on  her  brown  neck. 

"Here,"  said  he,  "is  the  portrait  of  Madame 
Pelisson.  It  was  ordered  by  the  Cabinet  from  the 
Prefecture  of  Police,  and  they  sent  it  on  after  they 
had  stamped  it  with  n  warranty  stamp,  as  you  see." 

Lespardat  seized  it  eagerly  with  his  square 
fingers. 

"She  is  handsome,"  said  he. 

"Have  you  a  plan?"  asked  Labarthe.  "A 
methodical  scheme  of  operations." 

"No,"  answered  Lespardat  simply. 

Labarthe,  who  was  keen-witted,  protested  that  it 
was  however,  necessary  to  foresee,  to  arrange,  not 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     187 

to  allow  oneself  to  be  taken  unawares  by  any  con- 
tingencies. 

"You  are  certain,"  added  he,  "to  be  invited  to 
the  balls  at  the  prefecture,  and  you  will,  of  course, 
dance  with  Madame  Pelisson.  Do  you  know  how 
to  dance?     Show  me  how  you  dance." 

Lespardat  rose,  and,  clasping  his  chair  in  his 
arms,  took  one  turn  of  a  waltz  with  the  deportment 
of  a  graceful  bear. 

Labarthe  watched  him  very  gravely  through  his 
eyeglass. 

"You  are  heavy,  awkward,  without  that  irresist- 
ible suppleness  which  .  .  ." 

"Mirabeau  danced  badly,"  said  Lespardat. 

"After  all,"  said  Labarthe,  "perhaps  it  is  only 
that  the  chair  does  not  inspire  you." 

When  they  were  both  once  more  on  the  damp 
pavement  of  the  narrow  Rue  Contrescarpe,  they 
met  several  girls  who  were  coming  and  going 
between  the  Carrefour  Buci  and  the  wine-shops  of 
the  Rue  Dauphine.  As  one  of  these,  a  thick-set, 
heavy  girl,  in  a  dingy  black  dress,  was  passing  sadly 
by  under  a  street  lamp  with  slack  gait,  Lespardat 
seized  her  roughly  by  the  waist,  lifted  her,  and 
made  her  take  with  him  two  turns  of  a  waltz 
across  the  greasy  pavement  and  into  the  gutter, 
before  she  had  any  idea  what  was  happening. 

Recovering  from  her  astonishment,  she  shrieked 
the  foulest  insults  at  her  cavalier,  who  carried  her 


i88    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

away  with  irresistible  nerve.  He  himself  supplied 
the  orchestra,  in  a  baritone  voice,  as  warm  and 
seductive  as  military  music,  and  whirled  so  madly 
with  the  girl  that,  all  bespattered  with  mud  and 
water  from  the  street,  they  collided  with  the  shafts 
of  prowling  cabs  and  felt  on  their  neck  the  breath 
of  the  horses.  After  a  few  turns,  she  murmured 
in  the  young  man's  ear,  her  head  sunk  on  his  breast 
and  all  her  anger  gone : 

"After  all,  you  are  a  pretty  fellow,  you  are.  You 
ibught  to  make  them  happy,  didn't  you? — those  girls 
at  BuUier's." 

"That's  enough,  my  friend,"  cried  Labarthe. 
"Don't  go  and  get  run  in.  My  word,  you  will 
avenge  the  magistracy!" 

***** 

In  the  golden  light  of  a  September  day  four 
months  later,  the  Minister  of  Justice  and  Religion, 
passing  with  his  secretary  under  the  arcades  of  the 
Rue  de  Rivoli,  recognised  M.  Lespardat,  the  deputy 
magistrate  of  Nantes,  at  the  very  moment  when 
the  young  man  was  hurrying  into  the  Hotel  du 
Louvre. 

"Labarthe,"  asked  the  minister,  "did  you  know 
that  your  protege  was  in  Paris?  Has  he  then 
nothing  to  keep  him  in  Nantes?  It  seems  to  me 
that  it  is  now  some  time  since  you  have  given  me 
any  confidential  information  about  him.  His  start 
interested  me,  but  I  don't  know  yet  whether  he  has 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     189 

quite  lived  up  to  the  high  opinion  you  formed  of 
him." 

Labarthe  took  up  the  cudgels  for  the  substitut; 
he  reminded  the  minister  that  Lespardat  was  on 
regular  leave;  that  at  Nantes  he  had  immediately 
gained  the  confidence  of  his  chiefs  at  the  bar,  and 
that  he  had  at  the  same  time  won  the  good  graces 
of  the  prefet. 

"M.  Pelisson,"  added  he,  "cannot  get  on  with- 
out him.  It  is  Lespardat  who  organises  the  con- 
certs at  the  prefecture." 

Then  the  minister  and  his  secretary  continued 
their  walk  towards  the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  along  the 
arcades,  stopping  here  and  there  before  the  win- 
dows of  the  photograph  shops. 

"There  are  too  many  nude  figures  exposed  in 
these  shop-fronts,"  said  the  minister.  "It  would 
be  better  to  take  away  their  license  from  these 
shops.  Strangers  judge  us  by  appearances,  and 
such  spectacles  as  these  are  calculated  to  injure  the 
good  name  of  the  country  and  the  government." 

Suddenly,  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  I'fichelle, 
Labarthe  told  his  chief  to  look  at  a  veiled  woman 
who  was  coming  towards  them  with  a  rapid  step. 
But  Delarbre,  glancing  at  her  for  a  moment,  con- 
sidered her  very  ordinary,  far  too  slender,  and  not 
at  all  elegant. 

"She  is  clumsily  shod,"  said  he;  "she  is  from 
the  provinces." 


I90    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

When  she  had  passed  them: 

"Your  Excellency  is  quite  right,"  said  Labarthe. 
"That  is  Madame  Pelisson." 

At  this  name  the  minister,  much  interested, 
turned  round  eagerly.  With  a  vague  feeling  of  his 
own  dignity,  he  dared  not  follow  her.  But  he 
showed  his  curiosity  in  his  look. 

Labarthe  spurred  it  on. 

"I'll  wager,  monsieur  le  mintstre,  that  she  won't 
go  very  far." 

They  both  hastened  their  steps,  and  saw  Madame 
Pelisson  follow  the  arcades,  skirt  the  Place  du 
Palais-Royal,  and  then,  throwing  uneasy  glances  to 
left  and  right,  disappear  into  the  Hotel  du 
Louvre. 

At  that  the  minister  began  to  laugh  from  the 
depths  of  his  throat.  His  little  leaden  eyes  lighted 
up.  And  he  muttered  between  his  teeth  the  words 
which  his  secretary  guessed  rather  than  heard : 

"The  magistracy  is  avenged." 

4c  3|C  4t  Nc  ♦ 

On  the  same  day  the  Emperor,  then  in  residence 
at  Fontainebleau,  was  smoking  cigarettes  in  the 
library  of  the  palace.  He  was  leaning  motionless, 
with  the  air  of  a  melancholy  sea-bird,  against  the 
case  in  which  is  kept  the  Monaldeschi  coat  of  mail. 
VioUet-le-Duc  and  Merimee,  both  his  intimate 
friends,  stood  by  his  side. 

He  asked: 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     191 

"Why,  Monsieur  Merimee,  do  you  like  the  works 
of  Brantome?" 

"Sire,"  replied  Merimee,  "in  them  I  recognise 
the  French  nation,  with  her  good  and  bad  qualities. 
She  is  never  worse  than  when  she  is  without  a  leader 
to  show  her  a  noble  aim." 

"Really,"  said  the  Emperor,  "does  one  find  that 
in  Brantome?" 

"One  also  finds  in  him,"  answered  Merimee, 
"the  influence  of  women  in  the  affairs  of  state." 

At  that  moment  Madame  Ramel  entered  the 
gallery.  Napoleon  had  given  orders  that  she 
should  be  allowed  to  come  to  him  whenever  she 
presented  herself.  At  the  sight  of  his  foster-sister 
he  showed  as  much  delight  as  his  expressionless, 
sorrowful  face  was  capable  of  displaying. 

"My  dear  Madame  Ramel,"  asked  he,  "how  is 
your  nephew  getting  on  at  Nantes?    Is  he  satisfied?" 

"But,  sire,"  said  Madame  Ramel,  "he  was  not 
sent  there.     Another  was  nominated  in  his  place." 

"That's  strange,"  murmured  His  Majesty 
thoughtfully. 

Then,  placing  his  hand  on  the  academician's 
shoulder : 

"My  dear  Monsieur  Merimee,  I  am  supposed  to 
rule  the  fate  of  France,  of  Europe,  and  of  the 
world.  And  I  cannot  get  a  nomination  for  a 
suhstitut  of  the  sixth  class,  at  a  salary  of  two 
thousand  four  hundred  francs." 


XV 


AVING  finished  his  reading,  M.  Ber- 
geret  folded  up  his  manuscript  and 
put  it  in  his  pocket.  M.  Mazure, 
M.  Paillot,  and  M.  de  Terremondre 
nodded  three  times  in  silence. 
Then  the  last-named  placed  a  hand  on  Bergeret's 
shoulder : 

"What  you  have  just  read  to  us,  my  dear  sir," 
said  he,  "is  truly  .  .  ." 

At  this  moment  Leon  flung  himself  Into  the  shop 
and  exclaimed  with  a  mixture  of  excitement  and 
importance : 

"Madame  Houssleu  has  just  been  found 
strangled  in  her  bed." 

"How  extraordinary  I"  said  M.  de  Terremondre. 
"From  the  state  of  the  body,"  added  Leon,  "it  is 
believed  that  death  took  place  three  days  ago." 

"Then,"  remarked  M.  Mazure,  the  archivist, 
"that  would  make  It  Saturday  that  the  crime  was 
committed." 

Paillot,  the  bookseller,  who  had  remained  silent 
up  till  now,  with  his  mouth  wide  open  out  of 
deference  to  death,  now  began  to  collect  his 
thoughts. 

"On  Saturday,  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 

192 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     193 

I  plainly  heard  stifled  cries  and  the  heavy  thud 
produced  by  the  fall  of  a  body.  I  even  said  to 
these  gentlemen"  (he  turned  towards  M.  de  Tcrre- 
mondre  and  M.  Bergeret)  "that  something  extraor- 
dinary was  going  on  in  Queen  Marguerite's 
house." 

No  one  supported  the  claim  that  the  bookseller 
was  making  that  he  alone,  by  the  keenness  of  his 
senses  and  the  penetration  of  his  mind,  had  sus- 
pected the  deed  at  the  moment  when  it  was  taking 
place. 

After  a  respectful  silence,  Paillot  began  again: 

"During  the  night  between  Saturday  and  Sunday 
I  said  to  Madame  Paillot:  'There  isn't  a  sound 
from  Queen  Marguerite's  house.'  " 

M.  Mazure  asked  the  age  of  the  victim.  Paillot 
replied  that  Madame  Houssieu  was  between 
seventy-nine  and  eighty  years  of  age,  that  she  had 
been  a  widow  fifty  years,  that  she  owned  landed 
property,  stocks  and  shares,  and  a  large  sum  of 
money,  but  that,  being  miserly  and  eccentric,  she 
kept  no  servant,  and  cooked  her  victuals  herself 
over  the  fireplace  in  her  room,  living  alone  amidst 
a  wreckage  of  furniture  and  crockery,  covered  with 
the  dust  of  a  quarter  of  a  century.  It  was  actually 
more  than  twenty-five  years  since  any  one  had 
wielded  a  broom  in  Queen  Marguerite's  house. 
Madame  Houssieu  went  out  but  seldom,  bought  a 
whole  week's  supply  of  provisions  for  herself,  and 


194    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

never  let  any  one  in  to  the  house  save  the  butcher- 
boy  and  two  or  three  urchins  who  ran  errands  for 
her. 

"And  the  crime  is  supposed  to  have  been  com- 
mitted on  Saturday  afternoon?"  asked  M.  de 
Terremondre. 

"So  it  is  believed,  from  the  state  of  the  body," 
replied  Leon.  "It  appears  that  it  is  a  ghastly 
sight." 

"On  Saturday,  in  the  afternoon,"  replied  M.  de 
Terremondre,  "we  were  here,  merely  separated  by  a 
wall  from  the  horrible  scene,  and  we  were  chatting 
about  passing  trifles." 

There  was  again  a  long  silence.  Then  some  one 
asked  if  the  assassin  had  been  arrested,  or  if  they 
even  knew  who  it  was.  But,  in  spite  of  his  zeal, 
Leon  could  not  answer  these  questions. 

A  shadow,  which  grew  ever  deeper  and  deeper 
and  seemed  funereal,  began  to  fall  across  the  book- 
seller's shop.  It  was  caused  by  the  dark  crowd  of 
sightseers  swarming  in  the  square  in  front  of  the 
house  of  crime. 

"Doubtless  they  are  waiting  for  the  inspector  of 
police  and  the  public  prosecutor,"  said  Mazure,  the 
archivist. 

Paillot,  who  was  gifted  with  an  exquisite  caution, 
fearing  lest  the  eager  people  would  break  the 
window-panes,  ordered  Leon  to  close  the  shutters. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     195 

"Don't  leave  anything  open,"  said  he,  "save  the 
window  which  looks  on  the  Rue  des  Tintelleries." 

This  precautionary  measure  seemed  to  bear  the 
stamp  of  a  certain  moral  delicacy.  The  gentlemen 
of  the  old-book  corner  approved  of  it.  But 
since  the  Rue  des  Tintelleries  was  narrow,  and  since 
on  that  side  the  panes  were  covered  with  notices 
and  drawing-copies,  the  shop  became  plunged  in 
darkness. 

The  murmur  of  the  crowd,  till  then  unnoticed, 
spread  with  the  shadow  and  became  continuous, 
hollow,  solemn,  almost  terrible,  evidencing  the 
unanimity  of  the  moral  condemnation. 

Much  moved,  M.  de  Terremondre  gave  fresh 
expression  to  the  thought  which  had  struck  him: 

"It  is  strange,"  said  he,  "that  while  the  crime 
was  being  committed  so  near  us,  we  were  talking 
quietly  of  unimportant  affairs." 

At  this  M.  Bergeret  bent  his  head  towards  his 
left  shoulder,  gave  a  far-away  glance,  and  spoke 
thus: 

"My  dear  sir,  allow  me  to  tell  you  that  there  is 
nothing  strange  in  that.  It  is  not  customary,  when 
a  criminal  action  is  going  on,  that  conversations 
should  stop  of  their  own  accord  around  the  victim, 
either  within  a  radius  of  so  many  leagues  or  even  of 
so  many  feet.  A  commotion  inspired  by  the  most 
villainous  thought  only  produces  natural  effects." 


196    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

M.  de  Tcrremondre  made  no  reply  to  this  speech, 
and  the  rest  of  his  hearers  turned  away  from  M. 
Bergeret  with  a  vague  sense  of  disquietude  and 
disapproval. 

Still  the  professor  of  literature  persisted: 

"And  why  should  an  act  so  natural  and  so 
common  as  murder  produce  strange  and  uncommon 
results?  To  kill  is  common  to  animals,  and  espe- 
cially to  man.  Murder  was  for  long  ages  regarded 
in  human  civilisation  as  a  courageous  action,  and 
there  still  remain  in  our  morals  and  institutions 
certain  traces  of  this  ancient  point  of  view." 

"What  traces?"  demanded  M.  de  Terremondre. 

"They  are  to  be  found  in  the  honours,"  replied 
M.  Bergeret,  "which  are  paid  to  soldiers." 

"That  is  not  the  same  thing,"  said  M.  de 
Terremondre. 

"Certainly  it  is,"  said  M.  Bergeret.  "For  the 
motive  force  of  all  human  actions  is  hunger  or  love. 
Hunger  taught  savages  murder,  impelled  them  to 
wars,  to  invasions.  Civilised  nations  are  like 
hunting-dogs.  A  perverted  instinct  drives  them  to 
destroy  without  profit  or  reason.  The  unreason- 
ableness of  modern  wars  disguises  itself  under 
dynastic  interest,  nationality,  balance  of  power, 
honour.  This  last  pretext  is  perhaps  the  most  ex- 
travagant of  all,  for  there  is  not  a  nation  in  the 
world  that  is  not  sullied  with  every  crime  and 
loaded  with  every  shame.     There  is  not  one   of 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     197 

them  which  has  not  endured  all  the  humiliations 
that  fortune  could  inflict  on  a  miserable  band 
of  men.  If  there  yet  remains  any  honour  among 
the  nations,  it  is  a  strange  means  of  upholding  it  to 
make  war — that  is  to  say,  to  commit  all  the  crimes 
by  which  an  individual  dishonours  himself:  arson, 
robbery,  rape,  murder.  And  as  for  the  actions 
whose  motive  power  is  love,  they  are  for  the  most 
part  as  violent,  as  frenzied,  as  cruel  as  the  actions 
inspired  by  hunger;  so  much  so  that  one  must  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  man  is  a  mischievous  beast. 
But  it  still  remains  to  inquire  why  I  know  this,  and 
whence  it  comes  that  the  fact  arouses  grief  and  in- 
dignation in  me.  If  nothing  but  evil  existed,  it 
would  not  be  visible,  as  the  night  would  have  no 
name  if  the  sun  never  rose." 

M.  de  Terremondre,  however,  had  extended 
enough  deference  to  the  religion  of  tenderness  and 
human  dignity  by  reproaching  himself  with  having 
conversed  in  a  gay  and  careless  fashion  at  the 
moment  of  the  crime  and  so  near  the  victim. 
He  began  to  regard  the  tragic  end  of  Madame 
Houssieu  as  a  familiar  incident  which  one  might 
look  at  straightforwardly  and  of  which  one  might 
deduce  the  consequences.  He  reflected  that  now 
there  was  nothing  to  prevent  his  buying  Queen 
Marguerite's  house  as  a  storehouse  for  his  collec- 
tions of  furniture,  china,  and  tapestry,  and  thus 
starting    a    sort    of    municipal    museum.      As    a 


198    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

reward  for  his  zeal  and  munificence,  he  counted  on 
receiving,  along  with  the  applause  of  his  fellow- 
countrymen,  the  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honour, 
and  perhaps  the  title  of  correspondent  of  the 
Institute. 

He  had  in  the  Academy  of  Inscriptions  two  or 
three  comrades,  old  bachelors  like  himself,  with 
whom  he  sometimes  lunched  in  Paris  in  some  wine- 
shop, and  to  whom  he  recounted  many  anecdotes 
about  women.  And  there  was  no  correspondent 
for  the  district. 

Hence  he  had  already  reached  the  point  of  de- 
preciating the  coveted  house. 

"It  won't  stand  upright  much  longer,"  said  he, 
"that  house  of  Queen  Marguerite.  The  beams  of 
the  floors  used  to  fall  in  flakes  of  touchwood  on  the 
poor  old  octogenarian.  It  will  be  necessary  to 
spend  an  immense  sum  in  putting  it  in  repair." 

"The  best  thing,"  said  Mazure,  the  archivist, 
"would  be  to  pull  it  down  and  remove  the  frontage 
to  the  courtyard  of  the  museum.  It  would  really  be 
a  pity  to  abandon  Philippe  Tricouillard's  shield  to 
the  wreckers." 

They  heard  a  great  commotion  among  the  crowd 
in  the  square.  It  was  the  noise  of  the  people  whom 
the  police  were  driving  back  to  clear  a  passage  for 
the  magistrates  into  the  house  of  crime. 

Paillot  pushed  his  nose  out  of  the  half-open 
door. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     199 

"Here,"  said  he,  "comes  the  examining  judge, 
M.  Roquincourt,  with  M.  Surcouf,  his  clerk.  They 
have  gone  into  the  house." 

One  after  the  other  the  academicians  of  the  old- 
book  corner  had  slipped  out  behind  the  bookseller 
on  to  the  pavement  of  the  Rue  des  Tintelleries, 
from  which  they  watched  the  surging  movements 
of  the  people  who  crowded  the  Place  Saint- 
Exupere. 

Among  the  mob  Paillot  recognised  M.  Cassignol, 
the  president  in  chief.  The  old  man  was  taking  his 
daily  constitutional.  The  excited  crowd,  in  which 
he  had  got  entangled  during  his  walk,  impeded  his 
short  steps  and  feeble  sight.  He  went  on,  still  up- 
right and  sturdy,  carrying  his  withered,  white  head 
erect. 

When  Paillot  saw  him,  he  ran  up  to  him,  doffed 
his  velvet  cap,  and,  offering  him  his  arm,  invited  him 
to  come  and  sit  down  in  the  shop. 

"How  imprudent  of  you.  Monsieur  Cassignol,  to 
venture  into  such  a  crowd  I  It's  almost  like  a 
riot." 

At  the  word  riot,  the  old  man  had  a  vision,  as  it 
were,  of  the  century  of  revolution,  three  parts  of 
which  he  had  seen.  He  was  now  in  his  eighty- 
seventh  year,  and  had  already  been  on  the  retired 
list  for  twenty-five  years. 

Leaning  on  the  bookseller,  Paillot,  he  crossed  the 
doorstep  of  the  shop   and  sat  down  on  a   rush- 


200    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

bottomed  chair,  in  the  midst  of  the  respectful 
academicians.  His  malacca  cane,  with  its  silver 
top,  trembled  under  his  hand  between  his  hollow 
thighs.  His  spine  was  stiffer  than  the  back  of  his 
chair.  He  drew  off  his  tortoiseshell  spectacles  to 
wipe  them,  and  it  took  him  a  long  time  to  put  them 
on  again.  He  had  lost  his  memory  for  faces,  and 
although  he  was  hard  of  hearing,  it  was  by  the 
voice  that  he  recognised  people. 

He  asked  concisely  for  the  cause  of  the  crowds 
which  had  gathered  in  the  square,  but  he  hardly 
listened  to  the  answer  given  him  by  M.  de  Terre- 
mondre.  His  brain,  sound  but  ossified,  steeped  as 
it  were  in  myrrh,  received  no  new  impressions,  al- 
though old  ideas  and  passions  remained  deeply 
embedded  in  it. 

MM.  de  Terremondre,  Mazure,  and  Bergeret 
stood  up  in  a  circle  round  him.  They  were  igno- 
rant of  his  story,  lost  now  in  the  immemorial  past. 
They  only  knew  that  he  had  been  the  disciple,  the 
friend,  and  the  companion  of  Lacordaire  and  Mont- 
alembert,  that  he  had  opposed,  as  far  as  the  precise 
limits  of  his  rights  and  his  office  permitted,  the 
establishment  of  the  Empire,  that  in  former  days  he 
had  been  subjected  to  the  insults  of  Louis  Veuillot,* 
and  that  he  went  every  Sunday  to  mass,  with  a 
great  book  under  his  arm.     Like  all  the  town,  they 

*  Louis   Veuillot,   author   and   journalist,   born    1813,   and   much 
given  to  duels,  both  with  words  and  swords. 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     201 

recognised  that  he  retained  his  old-world  honesty 
and  the  glory  of  having  maintained  the  cause  of 
liberty  throughout  his  whole  life.  But  not  one  of 
them  could  have  told  of  what  type  was  his 
liberalism,  for  none  of  them  had  read  this  sentence 
in  a  pamphlet,  published  by  M.  Cassignol  in  1852, 
on  the  affairs  of  Rome :  "There  is  no  liberty  save 
that  of  the  man  who  believes  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  in 
the  moral  dignity  of  man."  It  was  said  that,  still 
remaining  active  in  mind  at  his  age,  he  was  classify- 
ing his  correspondence  and  working  at  a  book  on 
the  relations  between  Church  and  State.  He  still 
spoke  fluently  and  brightly. 

During  the  conversation  which  he  followed  with 
difficulty,  on  hearing  a  mention  of  the  name  of  M. 
Garrand,  the  public  prosecutor  of  the  Republic,  he 
remarked,  looking  down  at  the  knob  of  his  stick  as 
though  it  were  the  solitary  witness  of  those  bygone 
days  that  still  survived: 

'"In  1838  I  knew  at  Lyons  a  public  prosecutor 
for  the  Crown  who  had  a  high  idea  of  his  duties. 
He  used  to  maintain  that  one  of  the  attributes  of 
public  administration  was  infallibility,  and  that  the 
king's  prosecutor  could  no  more  be  in  the  wrong 
than  the  king  himself.  His  name  was  M.  de 
Clavel,  and  he  left  some  valuable  works  on  criminal 
cross-examination." 

Then  the  old  man  was  silent,  alone  with  his 
memories  in  the  midst  of  men. 


202    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

Paillot,  on  the  doorstep,  was  watching  what  was 
going  on  outside. 

"Here  is  M.  Roquincourt  coming  out  of  the 
house." 

M.  Cassignol,  thinking  only  of  past  events,  said: 

"I  started  at  the  bar.  I  was  under  the  orders  of 
M.  de  Clavel,  who  used  again  and  again  to  repeat 
to  me:  'Grasp  this  maxim  thoroughly:  The 
interests  of  the  prisoner  are  sacred,  the  interests  of 
society  are  doubly  sacred,  the  interests  of  justice  are 
thrice  sacred.'  Metaphysical  principles  had  in 
those  days  more  influence  on  men's  minds  than  they 
have  nowadays." 

"That's  very  true,"  said  M.  de  Terremondre. 

"They  are  carrying  away  a  bedside-table,  some 
linen,  and  a  little  truck,"  said  Paillot.  "These  are 
doubtless  articles  to  be  used  in  evidence." 

M.  de  Terremondre,  no  longer  able  to  restrain 
himself,  went  forward  to  watch  the  loading  of  the 
truck.     Suddenly,  knitting  his  brows,  he  exclaimed: 

"Sacrebleu !" 

Then,  seeing  Paillot's  inquiring  look,  he  added: 

"It's  nothing!  nothing!" 

Cunning  collector  that  he  was,  he  had  just  caught 
sight  of  a  water-jug  in  porcelaine  a  la  Reine  among 
the  articles  attached,  and  he  was  making  up  his 
mind  to  inquire  about  it  after  the  trial  from  Surcouf, 
the  registrar,  who  was  an  obliging  man.  In  getting 
together  his  collections  he  used  artifice.     "One  must 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     203 

rise  to  the  occasion,"  he  used  to  say  to  himself. 
"Times  are  bad." 

"I  was  nominated  deputy  at  twenty-two  years  of 
age,"  resumed  M.  Cassignol.  "At  that  time  my 
long,  curly  hair,  my  beardless,  ruddy  cheeks,  gave 
me  a  look  of  youth  that  rendered  me  desperate. 
In  order  to  inspire  respect  I  had  to  affect  an  air  of 
solemnity  and  to  wear  an  aspect  of  severity.  I 
carried  out  my  duties  with  a  diligence  that  brought 
its  reward.  At  thirty-three  years  of  age  I  became 
attorney-general  at  Puy." 

"It  is  a  picturesque  town,"  said  M.  Mazure. 

"In  the  performance  of  my  new  duties  I  had  to 
inquire  into  an  affair  of  little  interest,  if  one  only 
took  account  of  the  nature  of  the  crime  and  the 
character  of  the  accused,  but  which  had  indeed  its 
own  importance,  since  it  was  a  matter  that  involved 
the  death  sentence.  A  fairly  prosperous  farmer 
had  been  found  murdered  in  his  bed.  I  pass  over 
the  circumstances  of  the  crime,  which  yet  remain 
fixed  in  my  memory,  although  they  were  as  common- 
place as  possible.  I  need  only  say  that,  from  the 
opening  of  the  inquiry,  suspicions  fell  on  a  plough- 
man, a  servant  of  the  victim.  This  was  a  man  of 
thirty.  His  name  was  Poudrailles,  Hyacinthe 
Poudrailles.  On  the  day  following  the  crime  he 
had  suddenly  disappeared,  and  was  found  in  a  wine- 
shop, where  he  was  spending  pretty  freely.  Strong 
circumstantial  evidence  pointed  to  him  as  the  author 


204    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

of  this  murder.  A  sum  of  sixty  francs  was  found 
on  him,  for  the  possession  of  which  he  could  not 
account;  his  clothes  bore  traces  of  blood.  Two 
witnesses  had  seen  him  prowling  round  the  farm  on 
the  night  of  the  crime.  It  is  true  that  another 
witness  swore  to  an  alibi,  but  that  witness  was  a 
well-known  bad  character. 

"The  examination  had  been  very  well  managed 
by  a  judge  of  consummate  ability.  The  case  for 
the  prosecution  was  drawn  up  with  much  skill. 
But  Poudrailles  had  made  no  confession.  And  in 
court,  during  the  whole  course  of  the  cross-exami- 
nation, he  fenced  himself  about  with  a  series  of  de- 
nials from  which  nothing  could  dislodge  him.  I 
had  prepared  my  address  as  public  prosecutor  with 
all  the  care  of  which  I  was  capable  and  with  all  the 
conscientiousness  of  a  young  man  who  does  not  wish 
to  appear  unfitted  for  his  high  duties.  I  brought 
to  the  delivery  of  it  all  the  ardour  of  my  youth. 
The  alibi  furnished  by  the  woman  Cortot,  who  pre- 
tended that  she  had  kept  Poudrailles  in  her  house 
at  Puy  during  the  night  of  the  crime,  was  a  great 
obstacle  to  me.  I  set  myself  to  break  it  down.  I 
threatened  the  woman  Cortot  with  the  penalties 
attaching  to  perjury.  One  of  my  arguments  made 
a  special  impression  on  the  mind  of  the  jury.  I 
reminded  them  that,  according  to  the  report  of  the 
neighbours,  the  watch-dogs  had  not  barked  at  the 
murderer.     That  was  because  they  knew  him.     It 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL    205 

was,  then,  no  stranger.  It  was  the  ploughman;  it 
was  Poudrailles.  Finally  I  called  for  the  death 
penalty,  and  I  got  it.  Poudrailles  was  condemned 
to  death  by  a  majority  of  votes.  After  the  reading 
of  the  sentence,  he  exclaimed  in  a  loud  voice:  'I 
am  innocent!'  At  this  a  terrible  doubt  seized  me. 
I  felt  that,  after  all,  he  might  be  speaking  the  truth, 
and  that  I  did  not  myself  possess  that  certainty 
with  which  I  had  inspired  the  minds  of  the  jury. 
My  colleagues,  my  chiefs,  my  seniors,  and  even 
the  counsel  for  the  defence  came  to  congratulate 
me  on  this  brilliant  success,  to  applaud  my  youthful 
and  formidable  eloquence.  These  praises  were 
sweet  to  me.  You  know,  gentlemen,  Vauven- 
argues'  dainty  fancy  about  the  first  rays  of  glory. 
Yet  the  voice  of  Poudrailles  saying,  'I  am  innocent' 
thundered  in  my  ears. 

"My  doubts  still  remained  with  me,  and  I  was 
forced  again  and  again  to  go  over  my  speech  for 
the  prosecution  in  my  mind. 

"Poudrailles'  appeal  was  dismissed,  and  my  un- 
certainty increased.  At  that  time  it  was  compara- 
tively seldom  that  reprieves  arrested  the  carrying 
out  of  the  death  sentence.  Poudrailles  petitioned 
in  vain  for  a  commutation  of  the  sentence.  On  the 
morning  of  the  day  fixed  for  the  execution,  when 
the  scaffold  had  already  been  erected  at  Martouret, 
I  went  to  the  prison,  got  them  to  open  the  con- 
demned cell  to  me,  and  alone,  face  to  face  with  the 


2o6    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

prisoner,  said  to  him:  'Nothing  can  alter  your 
fate.  If  there  remains  in  you  one  good  feeling,  in 
the  interests  of  your  own  soul  and  to  set  my  mind 
at  rest,  Poudrailles,  tell  me  whether  you  are 
guilty  of  the  crime  for  which  you  are  condemned.' 
He  looked  at  me  for  some  moments  without  reply- 
ing. I  still  see  his  dull  face  and  wide,  dumb 
mouth.  I  had  a  moment  of  terrible  anguish.  At 
last  he  bent  his  head  right  down  and  murmured  in 
a  feeble  but  distinct  voice :  'Now  that  I  have  no 
hope  left,  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  I  did  it.  And 
I  had  more  trouble  than  you  would  believe,  because 
the  old  man  was  strong.  All  the  same,  he  was  a 
bad  lot.'  When  I  heard  this  final  confession  I 
heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  relief." 

M.  Cassignol  stopped,  gazed  fixedly  for  a  long 
time  at  the  knob  of  his  stick  with  his  faded,  washed- 
out  eyes,  and  then  uttered  these  words: 

"During  my  long  career  as  a  magistrate  I  have 
never  known  of  a  single  judicial  error." 

"That's  a  reassuring  statement,''  said  M.  de 
Terremondre. 

"It  makes  my  blood  run  cold  with  horror,"  mur- 
mured M.  Bergeret. 


XVI 

HAT  year,  as  usual,  M.  Worms- 
Clavelin,  the  prefet,  went  shooting 
at  Valcombe,  at  the  house  of  M,  De- 
lion,  an  iron-master  and  a  member 
of  the  General  Council,  who  had  the 
finest  shooting  in  the  district.  The  prcfet  enjoyed 
himself  very  much  at  Valcombe;  he  was  flattered  at 
meeting  there  many  people  of  good  family,  espe- 
cially the  Gromances  and  the  Terremondres,  and 
he  took  a  deep  joy  in  winging  pheasants.  Here  he 
was  to  be  seen  pacing  the  woodland  paths  in  exuber- 
ant spirits.  He  shot  with  twisted  body,  with  raised 
shoulders  and  bent  head,  with  one  eye  closed  and 
brows  knitted,  in  the  style  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Bois-Colombes,  the  book-makers  and  restaurant- 
keepers,  his  original  shooting  companions.  He 
proclaimed  noisily,  with  tactless  delight,  the 
birds  that  he  had  brought  down;  and  by  now 
and  then  attributing  to  himself  those  that  had 
fallen  to  his  neighbours'  guns,  he  aroused  an 
indignation  which  he  immediately  allayed  by  the 
placidity  of  his  temper  and  by  entire  ignorance  of 
the  fact  that  any  one  could  possibly  be  vexed  with 
him.  In  all  his  behaviour  he  united  pleasantly 
enough    the    importance    of    an    oflScial   with    the 

207 


208    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

familiarity  of  a  cheerful  guest.  He  flung  their 
titles  at  men  as  though  they  were  nicknames,  and 
because,  like  all  the  department,  he  knew  that 
M.  de  Gromance  was  an  oft-betrayed  husband,  at 
every  meeting  he  would  give  this  man  of  ceremony 
several  affectionate  little  taps  without  any  apparent 
reason.  Among  the  company  at  Valcombe  he  im- 
agined himself  to  be  popular,  and  he  was  not  en- 
tirely wrong.  When,  despite  his  underbred  man- 
ners and  toadying  air,  his  companions  had  got  off 
scot-free  of  both  shot  and  impertinences,  he  was 
considered  dexterous,  and  they  said  that,  at  bottom, 
he  had  tact. 

This  year  he  had  succeeded  better  than  ever  in 
the  capitalist  circle.  It  was  known  that  he  was 
opposed  to  the  income  tax,  which  in  private  conver- 
sation he  had  felicitously  described  as  inquisitorial. 
At  Valcombe,  therefore,  he  was  the  recipient  of  the 
congratulations  of  a  grateful  society,  and  Madame 
Delion  smiled  on  him,  softening  for  him  her  steel- 
blue  eyes  and  her  majestic  forehead  crowned  with 
bandeaux  of  iron-grey. 

On  leaving  his  room,  where  he  had  been  dressing 
for  dinner,  he  saw  the  lissom  figure  of  Madame 
de  Gromance  gliding  along  the  dark  corridor,  with  a 
rustle  of  clothes  and  jewels.  In  the  dusk  her  bare 
shoulders  seemed  barer  than  ever.  He  frisked 
forward  to  overtake  her,  seized  her  by  the  waist 
and  kissed  her  on  the  neck.     When  she  freed  her- 


THE  ELM.TREE  ON  THE  MALL     209 

self  hurriedly,  he  said  to  her  in  reproachful  accents: 

"Why  so  cruel  to  me,  Countess?" 
^Then  she  gave  him  a  box  on  the  ears  which  sur- 
prised him  greatly. 

On  the  ground-floor  landing  he  came  upon  No- 
emi,  who,  very  seemly  in  her  dress  of  black  satin 
covered  with  black  tulle,  was  slowly  drawing  her 
long  gloves  over  her  arms.  He  made  a  friendly 
little  sign  to  her  with  his  eye.  He  was  a  good 
husband,  and  regarded  his  wife  with  a  good  deal  of 
esteem  and  some  admiration. 

She  deserved  it,  for  she  had  need  of  rare  tact  not 
to  ruffle  the  anti-Jewish  society  of  Valcombe.  And 
she  was  not  unpopular  there.  She  had  even  won 
their  sympathy.  And  what  was  most  astonishing, 
she  did  not  seem  an  outsider. 

In  that  great  cold  provincial  salon  she  assumed 
an  awe-stricken  face  and  a  placid  demeanour  which 
produced  a  doubt  of  her  intelligence,  but  proclaimed 
her  honest,  sweet,  and  good.  With  Madame  De- 
lion  and  the  other  women,  she  admired,  approved, 
and  held  her  tongue.  And  if  a  man  of  some  intelli- 
gence and  experience  entered  into  a  tete-a-tete  with 
her,  she  made  herself  still  more  demure,  modest, 
and  timid,  with  downcast  eyes;  then  suddenly  she 
hurled  some  broad  jest  at  him,  which  tickled  him 
by  its  unexpectedness,  and  which  he  regarded  as  a 
special  favour,  coming  from  so  prim  a  mouth  and 
so  reserved  a  mind.     She  captivated  the  hearts  of 


2IO    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

the  old  sparks.  Without  a  gesture,  without  a 
movement,  without  the  flutter  of  a  fan,  with  an  im- 
perceptible quiver  of  her  eyelashes  and  a  swift  purs- 
ing of  the  lips,  she  insinuated  ideas  that  flattered 
them.  She  made  a  conquest  of  M.  Mauricet  him- 
self, who,  great  connoisseur  as  he  was,  said  of  her : 

"She  has  always  been  plain,  she  is  no  longer  even 
attractive,  but  she  is  a  woman." 

M.  Worms-Clavelin  was  placed  at  table  between 
Madame  Delion  and  Madame  Laprat-Teulet,  wife 
of  the  senator  of  .  .  .  Madame  Laprat-Teulet 
was  a  sallow  little  woman,  whom  one  always  seemed 
to  be  looking  at  through  a  gauze,  so  soft  were  her 
features.  As  a  young  girl,  she  had  been  steeped  in 
religion  as  if  it  had  been  oil.  Now,  the  wife  of  a 
clever  man  who  had  married  her  for  her  fortune, 
she  wallowed  in  unctuous  piety,  while  her  husband 
devoted  his  energies  to  the  anti-clerical  and  secu- 
lar parties.  She  gave  herself  up  to  endless  petty 
tasks.  And  deeply  attached  as  she  was  to  her 
wedded  condition,  when  a  demand  was  lodged  be- 
fore the  Senate  for  the  authorisation  of  judicial 
proceedings  against  Laprat-Teulet  and  several 
other  senators,  she  offered  two  candles  in  the 
Church  of  Saint-Exupere,  before  the  painted  statue 
of  Saint  Anthony,  in  order  that  by  his  good  offices 
her  husband's  opponents  might  be  non-suited. 
And  it  was  in  that  way  that  the  affair  ended.     A 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     211 

pupil  of  Gambetta,  M.  Laprat-Teulet  had  in 
his  possession  certain  small  documents,  a  photo- 
graphic reproduction  of  which  he  had  sent  at 
a  timely  moment  to  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals. 
Madame  Laprat-Teulet,  in  the  zeal  of  her 
gratitude,  had  a  marble  slab  put  up,  as  a  votive- 
offering,  on  the  wall  of  the  chapel,  with  this 
inscription  drawn  up  by  the  venerable  M.  Laprune 
himself:  To  Saint  Anthony  from  a  Christian 
wife,  in  gratitude  for  an  unexpected  blessing. 
Since  then  M.  Laprat-Teulet  had  retrieved  his 
position.  He  had  given  serious  pledges  to  the 
Conservatives,  who  hoped  to  utilise  his  great 
financial  talents  in  the  struggle  against  socialism. 
His  political  position  had  become  satisfactory 
again,  provided  he  affronted  no  one  and  did  not 
seize  the  reins  of  power  for  himself. 

And  with  her  waxen  fingers  Madame  Laprat- 
Teulet  embroidered  altar-frontals. 

"Well,  madame,"  said  the  prefet  to  her,  after  the 
soup,  "are  your  good  works  prospering?  Do  you 
know  that,  after  Madame  Cartier  de  Chalmot,  you 
are  the  lady  in  the  department  who  presides  over 
the  largest  number  of  charities?" 

She  made  no  answer.  He  recollected  that  she 
was  deaf,  and,  turning  towards  Madame  Delion : 

"Tell  me,  I  beg  you,  madame,  about  Saint 
Anthony's    charity.     It    was    this    poor    Madame 


212    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

Laprat-Teulet  who  made  me  think  of  it.  My  wife 
tells  me  it  is  a  new  cult  that  is  becoming  the  rage  in 
the  department." 

"Madame  Worms-Clavelin  is  right,  my  dear  sir. 
We  are  all  devoted  to  Saint  Anthony." 

Then  they  heard  M.  Mauricet,  in  reply  to  a  sen- 
tence lost  in  the  noise,  say  to  M.  Delion: 

"You  flatter  me,  my  dear  sir.  The  Puits-du-Roi, 
very  much  neglected  since  Louis  XIV.'s  time,  is  not 
to  be  compared  with  Valcombe  for  its  sport. 
There  is  very  little  game  there.  Still,  a  poacher  of 
rare  skill,  named  Rivoire,  who  honours  the  Puits- 
du-Roi  with  his  nocturnal  visits,  kills  plenty  of 
pheasants  there.  And  you've  no  idea  what  an 
extraordinary  old  blunderbuss  he  shoots  them  with. 
It's  a  specimen  for  a  museum!  I  owe  him  thanks 
for  having  one  day  allowed  me  to  examine  it  at 
leisure.     Imagine  a  .  .  ." 

"I  am  told,  madame,"  said  the  prefet,  "that  the 
worshippers  address  their  requests  to  Saint  Anthony 
in  a  sealed  paper,  and  that  they  make  no  payment 
until  after  the  blessing  demanded  has  been  re- 
ceived." 

"Don't  jest,"  replied  Madame  Delion;  "Saint 
Anthony  grants  many  favours." 

"It  is,"  continued  M.  Mauricet,  "the  barrel  of  an 
old  musket  which  has  been  cut  through  and  mounted 
on  a  kind  of  hinge,  so  that  it  rocks  up  and  down, 
and  .  .  ." 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     213 

"I  thought,"  replied  the  prefet,  "that  Saint 
Anthony's  specialty  was  finding  lost  articles." 

"That  is  why,"  answered  Madame  Delion,  "so 
many  requests  are  made  to  him." 

And  she  added,  with  a  sigh: 

"Who,  in  this  world,  has  not  lost  a  precious 
possession?  Peace  of  heart,  a  conscience  at  rest,  a 
friendship  formed  in  childhood  or  ...  a  hus- 
band's love?  It  is  then  that  one  prays  to  Saint 
Anthony." 

"Or  to  his  comrade,"  added  the  prefet,  whom  the 
ironmaster's  wines  had  elated,  and  who  In  his  inno- 
cence was  confusing  Saint  Anthony  of  Padua  with 
Saint  Anthony  the  hermit. 

"But,"  asked  M.  de  Terremondre,  "this  Rlvolre 
is  known  as  the  poacher  to  the  prefecture,  is  he 
not?" 

"You  are  mistaken.  Monsieur  de  Terremondre," 
replied  the  prefet.  "He  has  a  still  more  honour- 
able appointment  as  poacher  to  the  Archjblshoprlc. 
He  supplies  Monseigneur's  table." 

"He  also  consents  to  put  his  skill  at  the  service  of 
the  court,"  said  President  Peloux. 

M.  Delion  and  Madame  Cartier  de  Chalmot 
were  conversing  together  in  low  tones : 

"My  son  Gustave,  dear  lady,  is  going  to  serve 
his  military  term  this  year.  I  should  so  much 
like  him  to  be  placed  under  General  Cartier  dc 
Chalmot." 


214    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

"Do  not  set  your  heart  on  that,  monsieur.  My 
husband  hates  favouritism,  and  he  is  chary  of 
granting  leave;  he  expects  lads  of  good  family  to 
show  an  example  of  work.  And  he  has  imbued  all 
his  colonel's  with  his  principles." 

".  .  .  And  the  barrel  of  this  musket,"  continued 
M.  Mauricet,  "corresponds  with  no  recognised 
bore,  so  that  Rivoire  can  only  make  use  of  under- 
sized cartridges.     You  can  easily  imagine  .  .  ." 

The  prefet  was  unfolding  certain  arguments 
calculated  to  bring  Madame  Delion  completely  over 
to  the  government,  and  he  concluded  with  this  noble 
thought : 

"At  the  moment  when  the  Czar  is  coming  on  a 
visit  to  France,  it  is  necessary  that  the  Republic 
should  identify  itself  with  the  upper  classes  of  the 
nation  in  order  to  put  them  in  touch  with  our  great 
ally,  Russia." 

Meanwhile,  with  the  calm  of  a  Madonna,  Noemi 
was  kissing  feet  with  M,  le  president  Peloux,  who 
had  been  feeling  about  for  hers  under  the  table. 

Young  Gustave  Delion  was  saying  in  a  low  voice 
to  Madame  de  Gromance: 

"I  hope  that  this  time  you  will  not  keep  me 
hanging  about  as  you  did  on  the  day  when  you  were 
playing  the  fool  with  that  dotard  of  a  Mauricet, 
whilst  I  had  no  other  amusement  in  your  yellow 
drawing-room  than  to  potter  with  the  works  of  the 
clock." 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     215 

"What  an  excellent  woman  Madame  Laprat- 
Teulet  is!"  exclaimed  Madame  Delion  in  a  sud- 
den outburst  of  affection. 

"Excellent,"  said  the  prefet,  swallowing  a 
quarter  of  a  pear.  "It  is  a  pity  that  she  is  as  deaf 
as  a  post.  Her  husband  also  is  an  excellent  man, 
and  very  intelligent.  I  am  glad  to  see  that  people 
are  beginning  to  readjust  their  views  of  him.  He 
has  gone  through  a  difficult  time.  The  enemies  of 
the  Republic  wanted  to  compromise  him  in  order  to 
discredit  the  government.  He  has  been  the 
victim  of  schemes  that  aimed  at  excluding  from  Par- 
liament the  leading  men  belonging  to  the  business 
world.  Such  an  exclusion  would  lower  the  level  of 
national  representation  and  would  be  in  all  respects 
deplorable." 

For  a  moment  he  remained  thoughtful;  then  he 
said  sadly: 

"Besides,  no  further  scandals  can  be  hatched;  no 
more  charges  are  being  trumped  up.  And  there 
we  have  one  of  the  most  grievous  results  of  this 
campaign  of  calumny,  carried  on  with  unheard-of 
audacity." 

"Perhaps  it  is  as  well!"  sighed  Madame  Delion, 
thoughtfully  and  meaningly. 

Then  suddenly,  with  a  burst  of  fervour : 

"Monsieur  le  prefet,  give  us  back  our  dear  re- 
ligious orders,  let  our  Sisters  of  Charity  return  to 
the  hospitals  and  our  God  to  the  schools  whence 


2i6    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

you  have  expelled  Him.  No  longer  prevent  our 
rearing  our  sons  as  Christians  and  ...  we  shall  be 
very  near  to  a  mutual  understanding." 

Hearing  these  words,  M.  Worms-Clavelin  flung 
up  his  hands,  as  well  as  his  knife,  on  which  was  a 
morsel  of  cheese,  and  exclaimed  with  heartfelt  sin- 
cerity: "Good  God!  madame,  don't  you  see  that 
the  streets  of  the  county  town  are  black  with  cures, 
and  that  there  are  monks  behind  all  the  gratings? 
And  as  for  your  young  Gustave,  damn  it !  it  isn't  I 
who  prevent  him  from  going  to  mass  all  day  instead 
of  running  after  the  girls !" 

M.  Mauricet  was  finishing  his  description  of  the 
marvellous  blunderbuss,  amid  the  clatter  of  voices, 
the  echo  of  laughter,  and  the  little  tinkling  taps  of 
silver  upon  china. 

M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin,  who  was  in  a  hurry 
to  smoke,  passed  out  first  into  the  billiard-room. 
He  was  soon  joined  there  by  President  Peloux,  to 
whom  he  held  out  a  cigar : 

"Have  one,  do!     They  are  capital." 

And  in  reply  to  M.  Peloux's  thanks,  showing  the 
box  of  regalias,  he  answered : 

"Don't  thank  me ;  it  is  one  of  our  host's  cigars." 

This  joke  was  one  of  his  stock  ones. 

At  last  M.  Delion  appeared,  leading  the  bulk  of 
the  guests,  who  with  greater  gallantry  had  been 
chatting  for  a  few  minutes  with  the  ladies.  He  was 
listening  approvingly  to  M.  de  Gromance,  who  was 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     217 

explaining  to  him  how  necessary  it  was  in  shooting 
to  calculate  distances  accurately. 

"For  instance,"  he  said,  "on  uneven  ground  a 
hare  seems  relatively  distant,  whilst,  on  level 
ground,  it  seems  nearer  by  more  than  fifty  metres. 
It  is  on  this  account  that  .  .  ." 

"Come,"  said  M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin, 
taking  down  a  cue  from  the  rack,  "come,  Peloux, 
shall  we  play  a  game?" 

M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin  was  a  pretty  fair 
stroke  at  billiards;  but  M.  le  president  Peloux  gave 
him  points.  A  little  Norman  attorney  who,  at  the 
close  of  a  disastrous  estate  case,  had  been  forced  to 
sell  his  practice,  he  had  been  appointed  a  judge  at 
the  time  when  the  Republic  was  purging  the  magis- 
tracy. Sent  from  one  end  of  France  to  the  other, 
in  courts  where  the  knowledge  of  the  law  had  almost 
disappeared,  his  skill  in  sharp  practice  made  him 
useful,  and  his  ministerial  relations  secured  him 
advancement.  Yet  everywhere  a  vague  rumour  of 
his  past  pursued  him,  and  people  refused  to  treat 
him  with  respect.  But  luckily  he  was  wise  enough 
to  know  how  to  endure  persistent  rebuffs.  He  bore 
affronts  placidly.  M.  Lerond,  deputy  attorney- 
general,  now  a  barrister  at  the  bar  at  .  .  .,  said  of 
him  in  the  Salle  des  Pas-Perdus:  "He  is  a  man 
of  intelligence  who  knows  the  distance  between  his 
seat  and  the  prisoner's  dock."  Yet  that  public 
approval   which    he   had    not    sought,    and   which 


2i8    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

evaded  him,  had  at  length,  by  a  sudden  recoil,  come 
of  its  own  accord.  For  the  last  two  years  the 
whole  society  of  the  district  had  looked  upon 
President  Peloux  as  an  upright  magistrate.  They 
admired  his  courage  when,  smiling  placidly  between 
his  two  pale  assessors,  he  had  condemned  to  five 
years'  imprisonment  three  confederate  anarchists, 
guilty  of  having  distributed  in  the  barracks  bills 
exhorting  the  nations  to  fraternise. 

"Twelve — four,"  announced  M.  le  president 
Peloux. 

Having  practised  for  a  long  time  in  the  sleepy 
restaurant  of  a  county  town  in  a  rural  canton,  he 
had  learnt  a  close  professional  game.  He  raked 
his  balls  into  a  little  corner  of  the  billiard-table  and 
brought  off  a  series  of  cannons.  M.  le  prefet 
Worms-Clavelin  played  in  the  broad,  splendid, 
reckless  style  of  the  artist-cafes  of  Montmartre 
and  Clichy.  And  laying  the  failure  of  his  rash 
strokes  to  the  charge  of  the  table,  he  complained  of 
the  hardness  of  the  cushions. 

"At  la  Tuiliere,"  said  M.  de  Terremondre,  "in 
my  cousin  Jacques'  house,  there  is  a  billiard-table 
with  pockets,  which  dates  from  Louis  XV.'s  time,  in 
a  very  low  vaulted  hall,  of  soft,  whitewashed  stone, 
where  this  inscription  is  still  to  be  read:  'Gentle- 
men are  requested  not  to  rub  their  cues  on  the 
walls.'  It  is  a  request  to  which  no  one  has  paid  any 
attention,  for  the  vaulting  is  pitted  with  a  number  of 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     219 

little  round  holes,  whose  origin  is  accurately  ex- 
plained by  this  inscription." 

M.  le  president  Peloux  was  asked  in  several  direc- 
tions at  once  for  details  as  to  the  affair  in  Queen 
[Marguerite's  house.  The  murder  of  Madame 
Houssieu,  which  had  excited  all  the  district,  was  still 
arousing  interest.  Every  one  knew  that  a  crushing 
weight  of  evidence  hung  over  a  butcher's  boy  of 
nineteen,  named  Lecoeur,  whom  folks  used  to  see 
twice  a  week  entering  the  old  lady's  house  with  his 
basket  on  his  head.  It  was  also  known  that  the 
prosecution  was  detaining  two  upholsterer's  appren- 
tices of  fourteen  and  sixteen  years  of  age  as  accom- 
plices, and  it  was  said  that  the  crime  had  been 
committed  in  circumstances  which  made  the  story 
of  it  a  particularly  delicate  one. 

Being  questioned  on  this  point,  M.  le  president 
Peloux  lifted  his  round  ruddy  head  from  the 
billiard-table  and  winked. 

"The  case  is  being  tried  in  camera.  The  scene 
of  the  murder  has  been  reconstructed  in  its  entirety. 
I  don't  believe  that  there  is  a  doubt  left  as  to  the 
acts  of  debauchery  which  preceded  the  crime  and 
facilitated  the  perpetration  of  it." 

He  took  up  his  liqueur  glass,  swallowed  a  mouth- 
ful of  armagnac,  smacked  his  lips,  and  said: 

"Heavens!  what  velvet!" 

And,  when  a  circle  of  inquirers  crowded  round 
him  asking  for  details,   the  magistrate,  in  a  low 


220    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

voice,  disclosed  certain  circumstances  which  pro- 
voked murmurs  of  surprise  and  grunts  of  disgust. 

"Is  it  possible?"  was  the  comment.  "A  woman 
of  eighty!" 

"The  case,"  answered  M.  le  president  Peloux,  "is 
not  unique.  You  may  take  my  word  for  it  after  my 
experience  as  a  magistrate.  And  the  young  scamps 
of  the  faubourgs  know  much  more  on  this  subject 
than  we  do.  The  crime  in  Queen  Marguerite's 
house  is  of  a  well-known,  classified  sort;  I  might  call 
it  a  classic  type.  I  immediately  scented  it  out  as 
senile  debauchery,  and  I  saw  quite  clearly  that 
Roquincourt,  the  prosecuting  counsel,  was  following 
a  wrong  track.  He  had  naturally  ordered  the 
arrest  of  all  the  vagabonds  and  tramps  found 
wandering  within  a  wide  circumference.  Every  one 
of  them  aroused  suspicions;  and  what  put  the  crown- 
ing touch  to  his  mistake  was  that  one  of  them, 
Sieurin,  nicknamed  Pied-d'Alouette,  a  regular  gaol- 
bird, made  a  confession." 

"How  was  that?" 

"He  was  bored  with  solitary  confinement.  He 
had  been  promised  a  pipe  of  canteen  tobacco  if  he 
confessed.  He  did  confess.  He  told  them  all 
they  wanted.  This  Sieurin,  who  has  been  sentenced 
thirty-seven  times  for  vagabondage,  is  incapable  of 
killing  a  fly.  He  has  never  committed  robbery. 
He  is  a  simpleton,  an  inoffensive  creature.     At  the 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     221 

time  of  the  crime,  the  gendarmes  saw  him  on  Duroc 
hill  making  straw  fountains  and  cork  boats  for  the 
school  children." 

M.  le  president  resumed  his  game. 

"Ninety — forty.  .  .  .  During  this  time,  Lecoeur 
was  telling  all  the  girls  in  the  Quartier  des  Carreaux 
that  he  had  done  the  deed,  and  the  keepers  of  dis- 
orderly houses  were  bringing  to  the  police-inspector 
Madame  Houssieu's  earrings,  chain,  and  rings  that 
the  butcher-boy  had  distributed  among  their  in- 
mates. This  Lecoeur,  like  so  many  other 
murderers,  gave  himself  up.  But  Roquincourt,  in  a 
rage,  left  Sieurin,  or  Pied-d'Alouette  in  solitary 
confinement.  He  is  still  there.  Ninety-nine  .  .  . 
and  one  hundred." 

"Splendid!"  said  M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin. 

"So,"  murmured  M.  Delion,  "this  woman  of 
eighty-three  had  still  ...  It  is  incredible !" 

But  Dr.  Fornerol,  agreeing  with  President 
Peloux's  opinion,  declared  that  the  case  was  not  as 
unusual  as  they  fancied,  and  he  supplied  the 
physiological  explanation,  which  was  listened  to 
with  interest.  Then  he  went  on  to  quote  different 
cases  of  sexual  aberrations  and  wound  up  in  thesrt 
words : 

"If  the  devil  on  two  sticks,  lifting  us  up  in  the 
air,  were  to  raise  the  roofs  of  the  town  before  our 
eyes,  we  should  see  appalling  sights,  and  we  should 


222    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

be  staggered  at  the  discovery  among  our  fellow- 
citizens  of  so  many  maniacs,  degenerates,  mad  men 
and  mad  women." 

"Bah!"  said  M.  Worms-Clavelin,  the  prefet, 
"one  must  not  look  too  closely  into  that.  All  these 
people,  taken  one  by  one,  are  perhaps  what  you  say; 
but  together  they  form  a  superb  mass  of  con- 
stituents and  a  splendid  county-town  population  for 
the  department." 

Now,  on  the  raised  divan  which  overlooked  the 
billiard-table.  Senator  Laprat-Teulet  sat  caressing 
his  long  white  beard.  He  had  the  majesty  of  a 
river. 

"For  my  part,"  said  he,  "I  can  only  believe  in 
goodness.  Wherever  I  cast  my  eyes,  I  see  virtue 
and  honesty.  I  have  been  able  to  prove  by 
numerous  instances  that  the  morals  of  the  French 
women  since  the  Revolution  leave  nothing  to  be 
desired,  especially  in  the  middle  classes." 

"I  am  not  so  optimistic,"  replied  M.  de  Terre- 
mondre,  "but  I  certainly  did  not  suspect  that  Queen 
Marguerite's  house  hid  such  shameful  mysteries 
behind  its  walls  of  crumbling  woodwork  and 
beneath  the  cobweb-curtains  of  its  mullioned 
windows.  I  went  to  see  Madame  Houssieu  several 
times;  she  seemed  a  miserly  and  mistrustful  old 
woman,  a  little  mad,  yet  like  so  many  others.  But, 
as  they  used  to  say  in  the  time  of  Queen 
Marguerite: 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     223 

"She  is  under  the  sod. 
Her  soul  be  with  God !  * 

She  will  no  longer,  by  her  lewdness,  blot  the 
scutcheon  of  good  Philippe  Tricouillard." 

At  that  name  a  shout  of  merry  laughter  burst 
from  their  knowing  faces.  It  was  the  secret  joy 
and  Inward  pride  of  the  town,  that  emblematic 
shield,  with  its  witness  to  the  triple  virtue  and 
power  that  put  this  bourgeois  ancestor  of  theirs  on 
a  level  with  the  great  condottiere  of  Bergamo. 
The  people  of  .  .  .  loved  him,  their  lusty  forebear, 
the  contemporary  of  the  king  in  the  Cent  Nouvelles 
nouvelles,  their  ancient  alderman  Philippe  Tricouil- 
lard, about  whom,  to  tell  the  truth,  they  knew 
nothing  save  the  gift  of  nature  to  which  he  owed 
his  illustrious  surname. 

The  turn  taken  by  the  conversation  led  Dr. 
Fornerol  to  say  that  several  instances  had  been 
cited  of  a  similar  anomaly,  and  that  certain  writers 
declare  that  at  times  this  honourable  monstrosity  is 
transmitted  hereditarily  and  becomes  persistent  in 
a  family.  Unluckily  the  line  of  the  worthy 
Philippe  had  been  extinct  for  more  than  two  hun- 
dred years. 

After  this  remark,  M.  de  Terremondre,  who  was 
president  of  the  Archaeological  Society,  related  a 
true  anecdote. 

*"Elle  est  sous  lame. 
Dieu  ait  son  ame!" 


2  24    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

"Our  departmental  archivist,"  said  he,  "the 
learned  M,  Mazure,  has  recently  discovered  in  the 
garrets  of  the  prefecture  some  documents  relating 
to  a  charge  of  adultery,  brought,  at  the  very  period 
when  Philippe  Tricouillard  was  flourishing,  towards 
the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century,  by  Jehan  Tabouret 
against  Sidoine  Cloche,  his  wife,  for  the  reason  that 
the  aforesaid  Sidoine,  having  had  three  children  at 
a  birth,  Sieur  Jehan  Tabouret  only  acknowledged 
two  of  them  as  his,  and  maintained  that  the  third 
was  by  another  man,  for  he  averred  that  he  was 
constitutionally  incapable  of  begetting  more  than 
two  at  a  time.  And  he  gave  a  reason  for  this, 
founded  on  an  error  then  common  among  matrons, 
barber-surgeons,  and  apothecaries,  who  each  as 
eagerly  as  the  others  professed  to  believe  that  the 
normal  frame  of  a  man  was  physiologically  in- 
capable of  begetting  more  than  twins,  and  that  all 
over  the  number  of  pledges  which  the  father  can 
produce  should  be  disowned.  For  this  reason,  poor 
Sidoine  was  convicted  by  the  judge  of  having  played 
the  harlot,  and  for  this  put  naked  on  an  ass  with 
her  head  towards  the  tail,  and  thus  led  through  the 
town  to  the  pond  at  Les  Eves,  where  she  was  ducked 
three  times.  She  would  scarcely  have  suffered  thus 
if  her  wicked  husband  had  been  as  generously  gifted 
by  Dame  Nature  as  good  Philippe  Tricouillard." 


'^Va        O*    % 


XVII 

N  front  of  Rodonneau's  house-door, 
the  prefet  glanced  to  right  and  left 
to  see  that  he  was  not  being  spied 
upon.  He  had  heard  that  it  was 
said  in  the  town  that  he  went  to  the 
jeweller's  house  for  assignations  and  that  Madame 
Lacarelle  had  been  seen  following  him  into  this 
house,  called  the  House  of  the  Two  Satyrs.  He 
felt  very  bad-tempered  over  this.  He  had  another 
cause  of  annoyance.  Le  Liberal,  which  had  treated 
him  respectfully  for  a  long  time,  had  attacked  him 
vigorously  over  the  departmental  budget.  He  was 
censured  by  the  Conservative  organ  for  having 
made  a  transfer  to  conceal  the  expenses  of  the 
electoral  propaganda.  M.  le  prefet  Worms- 
Clavelin  was  perfectly  honest.  Money  inspired 
him  with  respect  as  well  as  love.  He  felt  before 
"Property"  that  feeling  of  religious  terror  that  the 
moon  inspires  in  dogs.  With  him  wealth  had 
become  a  cult. 

His  budget  was  very  honestly  put  together. 
And,  apart  from  the  irregularities  that  had  now 
become  regular  as  the  result  of  a  faulty 
administration  common  to  the  whole  Republic, 
nothing  worthy  of  blame  could  be  discovered  in  it. 

225 


226    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

M.  Worms-CIavelin  knew  this.  He  felt  himself 
strong  in  his  integrity.  But  the  polemics  of  the 
press  put  him  out  of  patience.  His  heart  was  sad- 
dened by  the  animosity  of  his  opponents  and  the 
rancour  of  the  parties  that  he  believed  he  had 
disarmed.  After  so  many  sacrifices  he  was  pained 
at  not  having  won  the  esteem  of  the  Conservatives, 
which  he  secretly  valued  far  more  highly  than  the 
friendship  of  the  Republicans.  He  would  have  to 
inspire  le  Phare  with  pointed  and  forceful  replies, 
to  conduct  a  lively,  and,  perhaps  protracted  war. 
This  thought  was  harassing  to  the  deep  slothful- 
ness  of  his  mind  and  alarming  to  his  prudence, 
which  feared  every  action  as  a  source  of  peril. 

Thus  he  was  in  a  very  bad  temper.  And  it  was 
in  a  sharp  voice  that,  throwing  himself  into  the  old 
leather  arm-chair,  he  inquired  of  Rodonneau  junior 
whether  M.  Guitrel  had  arrived.  M.  Guitrel  had 
not  yet  come.  So  M.  Worms-Clavelin,  roughly 
snatching  a  paper  from  the  jeweller's  desk,  tried  to 
read  while  smoking  his  cigar.  But  neither  political 
ideas  nor  tobacco-smoke  served  to  dispel  the  gloomy 
pictures  that  crowded  into  his  mind.  He  read  with 
his  eyes,  but  thought  of  the  attacks  of  le  Liberal: 
"Transfer!  There  are  not  fifty  people  in  the 
county  town  who  know  what  a  transfer  is.  And 
here  I  can  see  all  the  idiots  in  the  department 
shaking   their   heads   and   solemnly   repeating   the 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     227 

phrase  in  their  newspaper:  *We  regret  to  see  that 
M.  le  prefet  has  not  abandoned  the  detestable  and 
exploded  practice  of  making  transfers.'  "  He  fell 
into  thought.  The  ash  from  his  cigar  lavishly 
bestrewed  his  waistcoat.  He  went  on  thinking: 
"Why  does  le  Liberal  attack  me?  I  got  its  candi- 
date returned.  My  department  shows  the  greatest 
number  of  new  adherents  at  election-times."  He 
turned  over  the  page  of  the  paper.  He  thought  on 
again :  "I  have  not  covered  up  a  deficit.  The 
sums  voted  on  the  presentation  of  the  estimates 
have  not  been  spent  in  a  different  way  from  what 
was  proposed.  These  people  don't  know  how  to 
read  a  budget.  And  they  are  disingenuous."  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders;  and  gloomy,  indifferent  to 
the  cigar  ash  which  covered  his  chest  and  thighs,  he 
plunged  into  the  reading  of  his  paper. 

His  eyes  fell  on  these  lines: 

"We  learn  that  a  fire  having  broken  out  in  a 
faubourg  of  Tobolsk,  sixty  wooden  houses  have 
fallen  a  prey  to  the  flames.  In  consequence  of  the 
disaster  more  than  a  hundred  families  are  homeless 
and  starving." 

As  he  read  this,  M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin 
emitted  a  deep  shout,  something  like  a  triumphal 
growl,  and,  aiming  a  kick  at  the  jeweller's  desk: 

"I  say,  Rondonneau,  Tobolsk  is  a  Russian  town, 
isn't  it?" 


228     THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

Rondonneau,  raising  his  innocent,  bald  head 
towards  the  prefet,  replied  that  Tobolsk  was, 
indeed,  a  town  in  Asiatic  Russia. 

"Well,"  cried  M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin,  "we 
are  going  to  give  an  entertainment  for  the  benefit  of 
the  sufferers  by  the  fire  at  Tobolsk." 

And  he  added  between  his  teeth : 

"I'll  make  ...  a  Russian  entertainment  for 
'em.  I  shall  have  six  weeks'  peace,  and  they  won't 
talk  any  more  about  transfers." 

At  that  moment  Abbe  Guitrel,  with  anxious 
eyes,  his  hat  under  his  arm,  entered  the  jeweller's 
shop. 

"Do  you  know,  monsieur  I'abbe,"  said  the  prefet 
to  him,  "that,  by  general  request,  I  am  authorising 
entertainments  for  the  benefit  of  the  sufferers  from 
the  fire  at  Tobolsk — concerts,  special  performances, 
bazaars,  &c.  ?  I  hope  that  the  Church  will  join  in 
these  benevolent  entertainments." 

"The  Church,  Monsieur  le  prefet"  replied  Abbe 
Guitrel,  "has  her  hands  full  of  comfort  for  the 
afflicted  who  come  to  her.  And  doubtless  her 
prayers  .  .  ." 

"A  propos,  my  dear  abbe,  your  affairs  are  not 
getting  on  at  all.  I  come  from  Paris.  I  saw  the 
friends  whom  I  have  at  the  Department  of  Religion. 
And  I  bring  back  bad  news.  To  start  with,  there 
are  eighteen  of  you." 

"Eighteen?" 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     229 

"Eighteen  candidates  for  the  bishopric  of  Tour- 
coing.  In  the  first  rank  is  Abbe  Olivet,  cure  of  one 
of  the  richest  parishes  in  Paris,  and  the  president's 
candidate.  Next  there  is  Abbe  Lavardin,  vicar- 
general  at  Grenoble.  Ostensibly,  he  is  supported 
by  the  nuncio." 

"I  have  not  the  honour  of  knowing  M.  Lavardin, 
but  I  do  not  think  he  can  be  the  candidate  of  the 
nunciature.  It  is  possible  that  the  nuncio  has  his 
favourite.  But  assuredly  that  favourite  remains 
unknown.  The  nunciature  does  not  solicit  on 
behalf  of  its  proteges.  It  insists  on  their  appoint- 
ment." 

"Ah!  ah!  monsieur  I'abbe,  they  are  cute  at  the 
nunciature." 

"Monsieur  le  prefet,  the  members  of  it  are  not 
all  eminent  in  themselves;  but  they  have  on  their 
side  unbroken  tradition,  and  their  action  is  guided 
by  secular  rules.  It  is  a  force,  monsieur  le  prefet, 
a  great  force." 

"By  Jove,  yes!  But  we  were  saying  that  there 
is  the  president's  candidate  and  the  nuncio's  candi- 
date. There  is  also  your  own  Archbishop's  candi- 
date. When  they  first  mentioned  him,  I  thought 
to  myself  that  it  was  you.  .  .  .  We  were  wrong, 
my  poor  friend.  Monseigneur  Chariot's  protege 
— I'll  wager  you  won't  guess  who  it  is." 

"Don't  make  a  wager,  monsieur  le  prefet,  don't 
make  a  wager.     I  would  bet  that  the  candidate  of 


230    THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL 

Monseigneur  the  Cardinal-Archbishop  is  his  vicar- 
general,  M.  de  Goulet." 

"How  do  you  know  that?  I  did  not  know  it 
myself." 

"Monsieur  le  prefet,  you  are  not  unaware  that 
Monseigneur  Chariot  dreads  that  he  may  find  him- 
self saddled  with  a  coadjutor,  and  that  his  old  age, 
otherwise  so  august  and  serene,  is  darkened  by  this 
fear.  He  is  afraid  lest  M.  de  Goulet  should,  so  to 
say,  attract  this  nomination  to  himself,  as  much  by 
his  personal  merits  as  by  the  knowledge  that  he  has 
acquired  of  the  affairs  of  the  diocese.  And  His 
Eminence  is  still  more  desirous,  and  even  impatient, 
to  separate  himself  from  his  vicar-general,  since 
M.  de  Goulet  belongs  by  birth  to  the  nobility  of  the 
district,  and  through  that  fact  shines  with  a 
brilliancy  which  is  far  too  dazzling  for  Mon- 
seigneur Chariot.  Since,  on  the  contrary,  Mon- 
seigneur does  not  rejoice  in  being  the  son  of  an 
honest  artisan  who,  like  Saint  Paul,  worked  at  the 
trade  of  weaver!" 

"You  know,  Monsieur  Guitrel,  that  they  also  talk 
of  M.  Lantaigne.  He  is  the  protege  of  Madame 
Cartier  de  Chalmot.  And  General  Cartier  de 
Chalmot,  although  clerical  and  reactionary,  is  much 
respected  in  Paris.  He  is  recognised  as  one  of 
the  ablest  and  most  intelligent  of  our  generals. 
Even  his  opinions,  at  this  moment,  are  advan- 
tageous   rather   than   harmful   to   him.      With    a 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     231 

ministry  disposed  to  reunion,  reactionaries  get  all 
that  they  want.  They  are  needed;  they  give  the 
turn  to  the  scale.  And  then  the  Russian  alliance 
and  the  Czar's  friendship  have  contributed  to 
restore  to  the  aristocracy  and  the  army  of  our 
nation  a  part  of  their  ancient  prestige.  We  are 
shunting  the  Republic  on  to  a  certain  distinction  of 
mind  and  manners.  Moreover,  a  general  tendency 
towards  authority  and  stability  is  declaring  itself. 
I  do  not,  however,  believe  that  M.  Lantaigne  has 
great  chances.  In  the  first  place,  I  have  reported 
most  unfavourably  with  regard  to  him.  I  have 
represented  him  in  high  places  as  a  militant 
monarchist.  I  have  described  his  uncompromising 
ways,  his  cross-grained  temperament.  And  I  have 
painted  a  sympathetic  portrait  of  you,  my  dear 
Guitrel.  I  have  shown  off  your  moderation,  your 
pliancy,  your  politic  mind,  your  respect  for  repub- 
lican institutions." 

"I  am  very  grateful  to  you  for  your  kindness, 
monsieur  le  prefet.     And  what  did  they  reply?" 

"You  want  to  know  that.  Well!  they  replied: 
'We  know  such  candidates  as  your  M.  Guitrel. 
Once  nominated,  they  are  worse  than  the  others. 
They  show  more  zeal  against  us.  That  is  easily 
accounted  for.  They  have  more  to  beg  pardon  for 
of  their  own  party.*  " 

"Is  it  possible,  monsieur  le  prefet,  that  they 
talked  like  this  in  high  places?" 


232     THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALI, 

"Ha!  yes.  And  my  interlocutor  added  this: 
'I  do  not  like  candidates  for  the  episcopacy  who 
show  too  much  zeal  for  our  institutions.  If  I 
could  get  a  hearing,  the  choice  would  be  made 
from  among  the  others.  In  the  civil  and  political 
ranks  they  prefer  officials  who  are  most  devoted, 
most  attached  to  the  government.  Nothing  can  be 
better.  But  there  are  no  priests  devoted  to  the 
Republic.  In  this  case,  the  wise  thing  is  always  to 
take  the  most  honest  men.'  " 

And  the  prefet,  throwing  the  chewed  end  of  his 
cigar  into  the  middle  of  the  floor,  finished  with  these 
words : 

"You  see,  my  poor  Guitrel,  that  your  affairs  are 
not  making  headway." 

M.  Guitrel  stammered: 

"I  do  not  see.  Monsieur  le  prefect,  I  do  not  per- 
ceive anything,  in  such  speeches,  that  is  calculated 
to  produce  in  you  this  impression  of  .  .  .  dis- 
couragement. On  the  contrary,  I  should  rather 
derive  from  it  a  sentiment  of  .  .  .  con- 
fidence. .  .  ." 

M.  le  prefet  Worms-Clavelin  lit  a  cigar  and  said 
with  a  laugh : 

"Who  knows  whether  they  are  not  right,  at  the 
bureaux?  .  .  .  But  reassure  yourself,  my  dear 
abbe,  I  do  not  abandon  you.  Let's  see,  whom 
have  we  on  our  side?" 


THE  ELM-TREE  ON  THE  MALL     233 

He  opened  his  left  hand,  in  order  to  count  on  his 
fingers. 

They  both  considered. 

They  found  a  senator  of  the  department  who  was 
beginning  to  emerge  from  the  difficulties  into  which 
the  recent  scandals  had  plunged  him,  a  retired 
general,  politician,  publicist  and  financier,  the 
bishop  of  Ecbatana,  well  known  in  the  artistic 
world,  and  Theophile  Mayer,  the  friend  of  the 
ministers. 

"But,  my  dear  Guitrel,"  cried  the  prefet,  "you 
have  only  the  rag-tag  and  bobtail  on  your  side." 

Abbe  Guitrel  endured  these  manners,  but  he  did 
not  like  them.  He  looked  at  the  prefet  with  a  sad- 
dened air  and  pressed  his  sinuous  lips  together. 
M.  Worms-Clavelin,  who  had  no  spite,  regretted 
the  playfulness  of  his  words  and  took  pains  to  con- 
sole the  old  man: 

"Come!  comel  they  are  by  no  means  the  worst 
protectors.  Besides,  my  wife  is  for  you.  And 
Noemi  by  herself  is  well  able  to  make  a  bishop." 


^imy&. 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


,g 


Series  9482 


